3: Warriors of the Shadows
by kiku65
Summary: A clone commando story that carries on from two others, but can be read alone. Has some humour...I hope, action... ditto and surprises... probably. Jedi Knight 13 is a wonderful, fantastic person who deserves a medal for reviewing every chapter. Complete
1. Prologue

Let's see how the Jenth/Ions are doing, shall we?

Sorry it's so late, I've working on a fic that will probably be ready by the time this is fully posted. If it's any consolation, I'm really enjoying writing it...

You'll see :)

XXXXXXXX

**Prologue**

**Taanab sector, year 16, seven months after the end of the Clone Wars **

"Shadow One, this is Shadow Leader. Set coordinates for hyperspace jump to Umbara."

"Copied, Shadow Leader. All Shadows in position."

"Acknowledged. Prepare to punch it."

The YT-2400 freighter Blood Star turned slowly in the void above Taanab, setting its sights just above the systems single sun. The trip had been a slow one, hampered by the smaller Headhunters that needed more frequent stops than their bigger cousin. The temporary Shadow Leader knew it would have been quicker just to have made the journey just with his squadmate.

Unfortunately the Empire didn't have their comfort in mind, and in retrospect he was glad that the Shadows _other_ clone sergeant had insisted on a full group. Their journey had been interrupted three times by Imperial fighters; the _Blood Star_ alone would have taken serious damage without the faster Z-95s guarding it.

Black cosmos was shattered by the blue of hyperspace, and he rose from the pilots' seat gratefully, making for the holds. He still limped in one leg, a legacy of an old wound scored there by a Sith Lord on a backwater planet a year and hundred centuries ago. Since then he had acquired other scars, but that was the one that caused him the most bother, and woke him when the ship grew too cold.

This supply run had _not_ been enjoyable; between the ambushes, running from their former brothers- now _Stormtroopers_-, the problems of having two members who could speak no Basic and their worry about the old Shadow Leader none of them had had a moments peace. He was glad to be going back to their, for want of a better word, home.

It should have been enjoyable. He was now free, free of the Empire, free from his own genes. Free from time, which would kill his more loyal brothers within the next ten years. This should have been a festive occasion, but it wasn't, and as he walked back to the cargo holds he could see for himself why that was.

The Arkanians had been willing enough to sell what medical supplies the Shadows could afford, and so the hold was packed full of bacta, medpacks, stims and Shock Cloths, as well as less identifiable technology that he could admit he knew next to nothing about. They had enough medical technology to outfit several minor hospitals.

They hadn't intended it that way. All they had intended to get were a few medikits, some bacta patches and bandages... not half the planets medicinal stock. But a week ago, just as they had landed on the dusty ginger surface of Arkania, they had received a tight-band message from Kashyyyk. It hadn't been good news.

Their _old _leader had been injured a month ago by a Separatist-aligned rogue Jedi, and had only pulled through thanks to her own willpower and RC- 3889s' skill as a medic. He could still remember carrying her back from the Katarn den, letting Aine lead since he had an uncanny way of knowing which way to go. She had felt as light as child, and a sick child at that. So small.

For no reason it had reminded him of their unarmed combat exercises, their very first lesson, about a week after she had taken over their training. She had stood there and arranged them all in a line in front of her, before saying 'attack me'.

All of them had hesitated. Sarge wasn't very big, after all, and they had grown quite fond of her. When one of them – Midge – had finally stepped forward he had attacked almost gently, with great care.

He had made quite a bang when he had hit the floor.

Sarge embodied the old Jedi saying far better than the Jedi ever had. Size really _did_ matter not.

It had frightened him a little, and his tenseness must have woken her. The wakening had not been pleasant for either of them; she had been distressed for obvious reason and he had been frantic trying to deaden the pain while they raced for the village. It had only been when Aine had taken her that she had quieted, maybe because she had sensed she was being held by a trained medic as opposed to a tired and jumpy soldier. She had been set to make a full recovery when they had left for treatment, but the message had told of a turn for the worse.

Gangrene. For an injured soldier there was no worse infection.

RC-3889 'Aine' had been having some success with the treatments the Wookies had provided, but he had seemed pretty worried when he had commed them. Gangrene was a killer without the right antibiotics, if it latched hold somewhere like an arm or leg- both areas she had been injured in- then it would never let go. The only way then would be amputation.

If they arrived too late back to Kashyyyk it was very likely that they would find their old trainer minus two of her limbs. He did not find this prospect pleasing.

Climber sighed with worry and hurried towards the cabins. It was going to be a long jump.


	2. An unwelcome discovery

**1: An unwelcome discovery**

_Blade Leader this is Blade Three. No hostiles encountered. Carriers and gunships underway._

_-__message sent Kashyyyk system, Imperial channel_

"Shit shit _shit_."

Zip jinxed back and forth, Z-95 weaving in fantastic spirals in an effort to shake off his pursuer. The starfighter clung on to his tail grimly, laser cannons spitting green fire at his starboard wing.

"Shadow Four, what's your position?"

"I'm the one with a starfighter stuck to his ar... shiiiit!"

"Shadow Four?"

"Lost my starboard cannon!"

"Pull portside, I've got you in my sights."

Zips' Headhunter listed to the right, pulling his tail behind him. Bracketed by laser bolts, he steered them back into the main dogfight.

An explosion behind him made him whoop, a piece of durasteel plating the size of his head spinning past his cockpit.

"_Kandosii_!"

"_Vor'e_, bro. Shall we watch the bits burn or go help the others?"

"Ah the choices we must make."

"Have you noticed how_ fast_ these things are?"

"No, I've been fighting with my eyes closed..."

"Oh shut up."

Naturally, they joined the rest of the Shadows. There had been twelve in the squad of odd fighters that had jumped them on emergence, now whittled down to six. Zip would have been the first to admit that stopping at the Thanos system hadn't been their brightest idea to date, but they had had no choice. Togoria was the closest friendly planet to Kashyyyk, and they needed supplies.

"Shadow Leader, what are your shields?"

"Hit and kill! One down!""

"Shields at full capacity. No significant damage."

"Shadow Three, what's your position?"

"Uh, Crash? Did you suddenly learn to speak Wookie?"

"Permission to shoot Shadow Four, Shadow Leader."

"Permission denied Shadow One. Concentrate on the nasty people, not the stupid ones."

"Target destroyed. Four more out there _vode_."

"Copy that Ras. Let's mop up."

"Remainder are breaking off, Shadow Leader. Pursuit?"

There was a long pause. "Affirmative. We can't afford a regroup."

Suddenly the targeting computers of all five ships blared alarms, as the screens filled up with dots.

"Two squads incoming! Twenty-four ships!"

"Shit, what are the _chances_?"

"Pull out! Pull out! Plot for hyperspace jump Five!"

"Acknowledged. Stay alive Shadows!"

"They're all over me!"

Zip watched dry-mouthed as six of the strange starfighters swarmed over Crashs' ship. One exploded the victim of the Blood Stars missiles, the rest scattered as the rest of the Shadows piled in to help.

"Coordinates set. Everyone hyperspace-worthy?"

Three 'yes's and a confirmatory howl answered him. Climber took a deep breath.

"Ok... _punch it_!"

There was a hopeful pause as all six held they're breaths, and then cheers as black changed to blue, leaving the T.I.E fighters to buzz where the Shadows had flown only seconds before.

XXXXXXXX

Sirllocca rumbled a question as Aine emerged from the medical hut.

How is she?

The clone just shook his head. Since he had sent his call for aid three weeks ago Reuma had worsened swiftly. Much of her upper arm had gone stone-cold and dead, her leg was starting to pale worryingly. Massaging the affected parts helped, but it could only do so much.

The smell was worse. It reminded him of the Sickener, a nasty but useful device sarge had stolen from another training sergeant. Basically a ditch filled rotten nerf guts; she had had a rule for using it; if you could go through three times without throwing up then you never had to go in again.

He had managed on the second attempt.

"I can keep her stable for another week," he replied. "After that..."

The Wookie growled without meaning, as far as Aine could tell with his imperfect grasp of Shyriiwook. The other served as a more or less leader to the village, doubling as its resident doctor.

Much the same role, he mused, as he had had with the Jenth.

The back of his head prickled, and he turned just in time to see something jump down from on of the trees. A Wookie scout? Must have been.

The scouts have reported unusual activity above-planet. They are worried.

"What activity?"

_But Wookies don't wear clothes..._

Gunships fly in greater numbers and sweeps. There are strange new ships that escort them.

He shook off his sudden apprehension. He had enough to worry about.

"Strange ships?"

They have rounded pilot-areas and wing panels. And they howl like wounded Katarn.

Aine frowned. It didn't sound like anything he had heard either the Republic or Empire fly.

"Maybe they're just..."

He stopped, looking over the Wookies shoulder. It couldn't be. Not now. Not on top of everything else.

Sirllocca looked around at the direction of his gaze, and hollered immediately. As the village woke and panicked, Aine continued to stare at the objects with something like detached dread, as of watching a frightening horrorvid.

Two gunships. Three trooper dropship. An escort of twelve fighters.

Heading their way.

XXXXXXXX

**Thirty hours later, Kashyyyk system**

Realspace twisted, beaded and condensed into four Z-95s and battered YT-2400 freighter. All five were scorched, one missing a laser wingtip cannon completely, the other sporting burn marks that extended almost entirely over its cockpit. With a continuous movement they flew to the glowing-green planet before them, breaking atmosphere in the twilight zone between night and dawn.

_Good to be home_, thought Climber.

He commed ahead to the village to inform them of their arrival. This was standard procedure now, as the Wookies had looted guns capable of anti-aircraft attack. It was unlikely that the Shadows would be mistaken for their Imperial brothers, but Climber was not one to underestimate the effects of surprise and strain on the Wookie lookouts.

-Standardcode8-15/ AlphaAlphaRed-, This is the Blood Star requesting permission to land. Over.

Almost as soon as he sent the data a warning flashed onscreen.

-ERROR Receiver/ invalid-

Frowning, he tried again. The same message appeared.

-ERROR/ Receiver invalid-

"Shadow One, this is Shadow Leader. Try contacting the village, my computers got some sort of bug in it."

A pause. "I can't get hold of them Shadow Leader. I'm just getting an error message."

Climber experienced a sinking feeling. "Receiver invalid?"

"That's it."

"Anyone else have any joy?"

There was a longer pause, as the Shadows sent off communications from onboard computers. The return message was the same each time.

-ERROR/ Receiver invalid-

"Stupid thing. Some sort of fault?"

"Maybe the village relays got knocked out somehow."

"Or the computer got broken."

"Well we'll find out soon enough. Village five minutes away."

As they neared the village landing pads Climbers sinking feeling got worse. There was smoke...

"Eh, looks like a bonfire."

"Not very sensible for an arboreal culture."

"Shadows..." Climbers' mouth felt parched. "Form up for landing. Prepare for ground combat."

There was a deadly silence. TC-16, clattering behind Climber, saw the smoke and broke it.

"Oh dear."

They had reached the village.

XXXXXXXX

It turned out in the end that Zip had been right, in a way. There were bonfires.

They just had a different sort of fuel.

The Imps had hit hard and fast. Gunships had struck first, raining fire down on the wooden huts, CR-28 flame cannons washing over the village, burning those who tried to flee, setting huts alight. Concussion missiles had blown away the perimeters, laser cannons had picked off those foolish enough to run for the treetops.

It had lasted, maybe, about five minutes. Then the gunships had peeled off, and the dropship had landed.

CR20 troop carriers are capable of carrying up to forty troopers, twelve 74-Z speeder bikes, and their corresponding supplies, and were armed with twin turbolaser batteries that could punch through armour or obliterate any vehicle unfortunate enough to get in their way. These three- red-and-white Republic colours repainted to blue- had landed and spilled their cargo in less time than it had taken the gunships to decimate the village. Forty white-armoured troopers had rushed from its interior, blasting every living thing as soon as they emerged from the cramped conditions.

But that was not what it seemed, because if the Empire had been set on destroying the Wookies they would have simply let the gunships blow the village into oblivion. The blasters were all on stun settings, so that even with the unusual Wookie physiology that made them susceptible to stun-induced deaths, one in two on average lived through the experience. The garrisons of Kashyyyk made good profits by selling Wookies to the Trandoshans, and saw no reason to exterminate a potential hundred or so goods.

In the end the count was ninety-one captured and a hundred and twenty killed for the Wookies. The Imperials had lost ninety men, but for an attack force to a Wookie village this was a reasonable amount. It did, after all, leave a certain amount of space for their captives.

After the prisoners were dragged onboard the troopers had made a sweep of the area. Several pockets of escapees had been found, a further ten troopers lost in killing them. Of the escapees themselves only three were taken alive, the rest preferring a quick death in battle to a slow one as a slave. When the live ones had been stowed away as well, the Imperials had gathered up the bodies into piles, thrown a few thermal dets at them and left. Then the gunships had done one last sweep, setting fire to what was left of the stronghold.

The bonfires were bonefires.

XXXXXXXX

It was raining when they landed, a fine drizzle that shrouded the ruins as if in mourning.

_The only good thing about burning_, thought Climber, _is that there isn't any blood._

There were other things, though. The Shadows had removed helmets out of respect when they had started to explore, after a through check for any remaining enemy combatants. This had left them able to hear, to feel... to smell.

There was silence. Climber knew he would remember the silence forever. It was the breathless hush of death, the absence of sound caused by the absence of life. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind, the crunch of boots on cinders, on soot, the crackle of dieing fires and the wails of the two Wookie Shadows, all single threads on a tapestry of stillness.

They felt the cold of wind, strong enough to sting the eyes, mixing tears with raindrops that ran in ice rivers down frozen faces. Occasionally a strong gust would throw up embers to stab at their faces, the stinging feeling lingering even after the sparks were wiped away.

The smell was worst. Burnt meat, wet ashes, smoke, scorched wood and scorched bone. Climber was reminded of Geonosis, of walking among the bodies afterwards, smelling almost exactly the same odour. It had made him feel defiled, just breathing the same air, perhaps inhaling the atoms of someone he had laughed with, talked with, eaten with, trained with...

With an unspoken aim, they headed for where the hospital had been; found where it had stood almost at once. The Imps hadn't bothered with the ones in here. They had left the wounded where they were when the gunships made their final attack.

Climber hoped they had shot the patients first. The alternative was starting to gnaw away at his imagination.

Crash shivered, not something he was prone to. "Do you think...?"

The unspoken question hovered in the smoky air. They all looked at the jumble of smouldering logs.

"Sergeant Aine would have got out," volunteered Ras. "He wouldn't have left sarge behind either."

"Might've been killed in battle and chucked on one of the fires," said Zip.

One of the Wookies- Zirlachuk, Climber thought- howled a suggestion. TC-16, his silvery finish smeared by the smoke, translated. "He suggests you search the fires, master Climber."

All six looked at the piles of...things. The general group feeling was not enthusiastic about rummaging in them.

"They could have escaped," said Ras finally.

"Where to?" demanded Crash. "The whole place got torched. Even the _trees_ are cooked!"

Zirl groaned a reminder of the escape routes down to the Shadowlands. TC-16 passed on the message from the brindled Wookie.

Zip and Crash exchanged glances. Both of them were pessimistic about finding either Shadow alive, but both had more to loose by not looking.

Climber took action. "We look. Even if they're... even if we don't find them there could still be Wook survivors. Our hairy friends might appreciate being reunited with those."

Zirl and the darker female Yalatabuk yowled an agreement. Zip shrugged. Ras nodded. Crash did nothing but incline his head slightly in agreement.

TC-16 was the only one that spoke. "Sir, do you wish for me to go back to the ship?"

"Yes, fine, go ahead." Climber gazed at them as the droid hurried away. "Alright, buckets on. Break out the heavy stuff from the _Star_, meet back here in five. You two" -at the Wookies- "Start scouting for exit points. Comlinks at the ready. If you contact with the enemy stay calm and call for backup. Let's not loose anyone _else_ today."

All six split immediately, separating outwards in the shape of a blossom, or an exploding sun.

XXXXXXXX

"Captain..."

Climber looked around, tearing his gaze from the ominous grey sky. Ras was standing by the ruined sickbay hut, looking extremely uncomfortable. He shifted his feet as the commando sergeant turned around.

"Don't tell the others but..." he coughed slightly, and held out his hand, "I found this in there."

He nodded towards the charred beams, but Climber didn't notice. He was staring at the thing in Ras' palm.

A was a knife, curved slightly and sharp down the inner edge. The point was keen, the whole of the blade gleaming a translucent blue.

It was sarges' dagger. But what was it doing _here_?

"Was there anything else?" he managed to ask.

"Nothing, Captain."

_It doesn't mean anything. It can't_.

"We go ahead," he decided. "It proves nothing. They could still be alive."

_If she was hurt...crippled.._.killed

"And Ras?"

_What would they_ do

"Yes Captain?"

"Don't mention this to the others." He looked over his brothers' shoulder as the rest of the Shadows started to appear from the ruins. "No point in making Jenth even _more_ worried."

"Yes Captain."

As they gathered the sky rumbled a threatening message. They hurried after the Wookies as the rain picked up, sweeping the ground with grey.

XXXXXXXX

Visitors are often surprised- some terminally so- at the variety of life on Kashyyyk. From the mightyWroshyr trees to the tiny Orga plants, the horned Uller to the tiny Needlebug Kashyyyk was bursting with beings, plants and things falling in-between. The sheer astounding multiplicity of energy might have attracted more visitors if there hadn't been one small detail.

Namely this- that Kashyyyk was, put politely, a multi-layered death-trap where most if not all things could and did prey upon sapient beings. Even the plants were dangerous; the Syren plant, for example lured victims to its death with its alluring scent, petal jaws closing upon any prey foolish enough to touch it blood red inner flesh.

The helmeted Shadows didn't have much to fear from pheromones, but there were still over forty million different types of death to choose from. Caution, therefore, was necessary.

They were attacked twice, once by an irritated Bolstyngar and the next time by a hungry Anakkona. Soon after driving off the second Zip managed to walk into a Gorryl slug. He wasn't pleased when they finally managed to extract him, complaining loudly about what the digestive juices had done to his armour. Yala silenced him with a graphic description of what might happen next if a predator happened to hear him.

"Amazing," said Crash dryly after a long period of quiet, "you actually managed to silence Zip. Maybe we should create a medal for you."

Zip scowled at him, a fairly pointless exercise for a man in a helmet. "Shut up."

"C'mon, don't you find it funny?" Crashs' hidden grin was dangerously close to a smirk.

"Shut up."

"Touchy touchy."

Climber interrupted the argument. "Quieten down, Zirl's coming back."

The cinnamon-and-gold Wookie halted a few metres away, waving one shaggy arm back the way he had come. Yala responded to his excited roars with a sharp bark, making him quieten to a soft growl.

Crash watched the exchange. "Can I just say again how annoying it is to not understand those furballs?" Yala grumbled at him disapprovingly.

"Don't think she likes you bro."

"Shut up Zip."

Ras was listening in, as the best Shyriiwook speaker of the group. "He says he found traces up ahead of Wookies."

"Any human ones?" asked Climber anxiously.

Groan, growl, rumble. "He says no, but not to worry."

"Easy for him to say." He gestured them forward. "Follow the big furry person, everyone."

Growl, roar.

"He says-"

"We can guess, Ras."

"Yes sir."

Zirl lead them along the midlevels, an area of leaf-filtered green light and half-dead canopies. At some crossover points between trees there were rope bridges or cord ladders, in others the Wookies hadn't bothered and merely leapt. This proved difficult for their human companions.

Crash sidled over the edge of the leaves, looking at the drop to the lower branches. He shuddered.

"No way."

"It's not that far," Zip comforted him. "C'mon, if you close your eyes you won't even notice."

"That had better be a joke."

"Problem?" asked Climber, catching up from his rearguard position.

"He's scared of heights," Zip explained.

"I am _not_."

"That's how he got his name. We were on a deep-op mission to Druckenwell after Geonosis and he got all woozy."

"So?"

"So he was the one driving the speeder."

"That was _not _my fault," snapped Crash, still determinedly not looking down the drop. "It was a stupid place to put a building anyway."

Climber stared at him. "You're a _space pilot_."

"And?"

"And space pilots go up as high as is _possible_, you _never_-"

"I... close my eyes..."

Ras came over hurriedly, accompanied by an impatient Zirl. "The Wooks want us to hurry up, sir." Yala howled up impatiently from her position on the lower canopy.

"Tell them to find another way down," said Crash at once, "say we can't jump that far..."

"_I_ did."

"Shut up."

"Don't be such a wuss, bro," said Zip.

"It is _not_ wussy not to want to die a horrible bone-crunching death."

Zirl looked from one to the other, as if noting something. Then he reached forward.

"Argh!"

Zip collapsed with laughter. Zirl had taken things into his own hands – or paws- and picked up Crash. The clone kicked out as he was carried near to the edge.

"Put me down you overgrown rug!"

Zirl took a cursory glance over the edge before stepping forward a pace...and down...

"ARRGGGHHHH!"

There was a thud, and the scream was cut off. It was immediately followed by an impressive tirade of swearwords, some of which even Zip had never heard before.

"Climber coughed. "Ok... who's next?


	3. Nasty news and a hasty plan

**I've looked at the last chapter and realised I mut make an apology. Wookie-speak is supposed to be in square brackets, but it doesn't look like those load. Now will be in (()) double brackets.**

**Stupid :(**

* * *

**2: Nasty news and a hasty plan**

_Is it just me or are we spending a lot of time around here?_

_- GAR channel,_ _RC-3662 to RC-3198 _

Surprisingly, it didn't take too long for the rest to jump down safely and get going again. There was a slight delay as Crashs' fingers were prised from the canopy floor, but after that they were ready to go mere minutes after Zirl had leapt.

Zip fidgeted as their Wookie guides debated over which fork to take from the path. He had been trying to grow a beard for a while, figuring it could do a lot for his disguise, but at the moment he only had itchy stubble that irritated his face under the commando helmet. It was starting to get on his nerves.

Yala, striped black and auburn in the dim evening light, pointed empathetically down the shadier right-hand path, waving furry arms as Zirl shook his head and gestured down the left. Ras listened intently.

"Yala says that her way is quicker to the meeting place. Zirl thinks his path is safer, but Yala says that it would leave us all in the canopies after dark and...um... she says that we'd probably get ourselves killed if we stay out much longer. Zirl says if we take her way then we will _definitely_ get killed."

"How quick is Yala's path?" asked Climber.

The Wookie howled. "She says it could cut our time by about... I'm not sure how long. I think she means an hour."

"And Zirl's?"

"His would take two."

Zip didn't have to ask what Climber would decide. "We follow Yala. Crash, get to the rear with Zirl and cover us."

"Yes Captain."

They strode down into the darkness with watchful eyes.

XXXXXXXX

Down in the woods the darkness stirred.

"Anyone else starting to get a little freaked out?"

"I think I trod on something... oh, some_one_. Now something I mean."

Deep in the tree-shadow the woods awoke.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Why are there webs everywhere?"

"I don't think we want to know, Ras."

"Yessir."

_Things_ fluttered unseen, glimpses of ragged wings catching the helmets light. As the sun sank lower there were noises. Disturbing noises.

"What was that?"

"Stop scaring everyone Zip."

"I'm scared if everyone else is."

Glowing eyes flickered on as they trailed further in. Some of them rose higher off the ground than the clones own sightline. There was a sense of watchfulness.

"Something just ran over my foot."

"So?"

"So I actually _felt _it through armoured boots. How big do the bugs _grow_ here?"

"Zip?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we whispering?"

"Good question," shouted back Climber. Instinctively all the clones looked up in apprehension.

"Stop acting like such a bunch of babies."

Zip pointed suddenly. "_Look out behind you_!"

Climber spun around, rifle raised in a split second. There was nothing there, a fact which did not amuse him.

"You stupid _di'kut_."

"Thank you."

Yala growled something that needed no translating, though Ras did so anyway. "She says if we make more noise then she will personally stake us out for the wyyyschokk."

"Wyyyschokk?"

Growl, moan. "Webweavers sir."

All five looked up impulsively. Greyish-white nets hung overhead, drifting slightly in the weak breeze.

"Big webs," Zip voiced their thoughts.

"Yep."

"Better shut up then."

"Yep."

They carried on. The things watched them go.

XXXXXXXX

Yala yowled back down the line of troopers, prompting a loud response from Zirl at the back. Ras breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"She says there's lights ahead, sir."

As soon as they rounded the corner they were overwhelmed by a howling, roaring, screaming mob of Wookies, most of them cubs and oldsters that had been evacuated from the village before the gunships arrived. They lost Zirl and Yala almost at once, thrown by the crowd into an eddy near one of the tree trunks. Crash yelped and flailed as he was pushed too close to the circumference of the rotten canopy.

A Wookie turn white from crown to toes jostled his way through the mob to them, howling for calm. The effect was immediate, as all nearby quietened at once.

He grunted in acknowledgement and started to growl at them. Ras followed the noises, his face falling with each one.

"He says we have to follow him, sir."

"Why?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't think its good news though."

Crash noticed the looks some of the Wookies were giving them, and started to worry just a bit. They weren't happy looks.

Tanned hides had been stretched between the branches, making low tents underneath the shady tree limbs. The clones ducked into the largest, crowding together uncomfortably. Much to their surprise, Zirl and Yala joined them.

The white Wookie squeezed in after the two younger ones, grumbling softly as he made his way to Climber at the front. He gave a soft bark and a drawn-out groan that sounded oddly sympathetic.

Ras' shoulders slumped. "He says sarge and sergeant Aine didn't make it here, sir."

"Dead?" Climber tasted bile in his mouth. Crash moved slightly.

Grunt, growl. "He says he isn't sure. There was so much confusion..."

"Tell him to start at the beginning."

The elderly Wookie sniffed slightly, before launching into extended vocalizations. Ras tried desperately to follow. "He says... um, he says that when the gunships were first spotted the youngsters and old ones were evacuated first. He says that sergeant Aine went to get sarge only... there was something... I think the gunships arrived before he could get her out..."

Zip broke the dialogue. "They were trapped inside?"

"No, one of the other villagers helped get sarge out and... he says that he and the youngsters were sent out just before the firestorms started, but one of the _others_ said that the two humans- sarge and Aine- they got caught up in the fighting..."

"Shot?" Climber cut in.

"He says... he says the Imps were using stunners, sir. He says sergeant Aine started helping the village warriors, but he got shot then got up again then they shot him again and he didn't get up after that. After that no one saw him."

"And sarge?"

"They shot her as well sir. I think they loaded all the stunned ones on the dropships and carted them off to the Trandoshans. He said we can ask one and find out if we want."

Crash snorted. "How does he think we'll manage _that_?"

"He says they got a prisoner-"

The rest of Ras' words were lost, as every other Shadow- Wookies and all- exited the tent in a matter of seconds.

XXXXXXXX

It became clear after a few minutes that they weren't going to get very far with the captive.

A greenish-scaled being with cold red eyes, Ssskor had been in charge of the raiding party intended to pick off any survivors of the first assault. He refused to speak, except to threaten all present with gruesome deaths and call down the curses of the Scoremaster on them. Zip got the impression, however, that the Trandoshan wasn't very brave.

Climber finally tired of the endless drivel. "Zirl, can you come over here a moment?"

The Wookie wandered over from the tent entrance. Ssskors' demeanour grew more apprehensive instantly.

"Can you pull out one of his arms please?"

Zirl obliged, picking up the quaking Trandoshan and howling something. Climber guessed the meaning.

"Either one will do." Unnoticed by Ssskor, he winked slightly.

The Wookie grasped Ssskors' left arm. The Trandoshan spat.

"I will jusst regrow it!" he hissed.

"If you get the chance," said Crash.

"If you kill me a thousssand will take my place!"

"Maybe," said Climber reasonably, "but the point is, _you_ will still be dead. Whenever you're ready Zirl."

Ssskor squealed as his captor started to pull. "It will make no difference if you know!" he cried.

"It could make all the difference to _you_, lizard. Zirl?"

Ssskor screeched as the arm started to creak. "I will sspeak! I will tell you!"

Zirl put him down in an overly gently fashion, patting him on the head patronisingly. Zip suppressed a grin.

Climber wasn't laughing. "Spill it."

"The furbagsss will have been taken to Avatar," Ssskor hissed desperately. "You will not resscue them from there."

"We aren't_ looking _for Wookies, _di'kut_," said Crash patiently. "We're looking for humans."

"There were two... I did not sssee them, but two were rumoured to have been taken. If the rumoursss are true, then they were transsported to the _Executrix_."

Zip and Ras exchanged glances. Climber didn't show his puzzlement. "The _Executrix_ is in Mon Calimari subjugating the fishfaces."

"It hasss returned...they returned to sssee that we did well. They are on their way to Imperial Centre."

Very, very softly, Crash said every curse he could remember. The _Executrix_ was a Victory-class Star Destroyer, equipped with the full 10 quad turbolaser batteries, 40 double turbolaser batteries, 80 concussion missiles, and 10 tractor beam projectors that a Star Destroyer could carry.

It also happened to be Moff Tarkins' flagship.

Climber walked out of the tent, not bothering to look at the snivelling Trandoshan. The rest followed him in a hurry.

Zip voiced their thoughts. "What now?"

"It's impossible," said Ras, "to even think of a rescue. Not against a _Star Destroyer_..."

"Sarge risked more than that for us," said Crash almost inaudibly.

"She _sneaked _her way onto Coruscant!"

"Well, we'll sneak our way onto the _Executrix_. No biggie."

Zirl yowled the probability of them all getting caught.

"So we don't get caught. I thought you furballs were supposed to be _brave_?"

The Wookie snarled and lifted him off his feet again. By the collar.

"Put him down," said Climber quietly.

Zirl took one look at his face and obliged at once. Crash massaged his throat as their defunct leader took charge.

"We're going," he said firmly. "I'm sorry Ras, but sarge risked far more for us than we could ever do here. The Wooks don't have to come-"

Yala howled indignantly. Her meaning was clear.

"Fine, they can come, but we can't take on a Star Destroyer with four Headhunters and the Star. This will need _stealth_."

Zip laughed. "Hey, stealth is what we do best."

"What'll we do with the ships?" asked Crash. "And the droid, come to think of it."

"We will just have to leave them."

"We can't leave TC," protested Zip.

"If _you_ can think of a way to sneak him onboard, then please do so."

There was silence. Yala rumbled something that sounded sarcastic.

They all looked at Ras, who shrugged. "She says we could always dismantle him and ship his bits up."

Zip snorted, but the rest looked thoughtful. He saw their expressions.

"Oh no. No _way_."

Climber felt his face break into a malicious grin. "Ras, can you tell Yala to lead us back? We've got things to do."

"And take apart," Crash added.


	4. Works both ways

**3: Works both ways**

_Scout Leader, this is Scout Five. Potential hostile... cccct!_

_-Imperial Recon channel, shortly before contact to __Kachirho__ lost._

Crash noticed Climbers' discomfort as they pulled on the –now derelict- green Phase II armour recently vacated by the unfortunate scout troopers. He thought he could guess the reason.

"We don't have much choice, bro," he said quietly.

Climber tilted his head towards his brother. In the background Yala laughed as Zip fell over trying to put on the cumbersome leg armour.

"I still don't like it." He sighed. "It feels too much like betrayal."

"We _are _traitors, _ner vod_," Crash pointed out with a grin.

"Only technically."

"Technicalities are the soul of armies everywhere."

Zirl grumbled something, and Ras repeated it in Basic. "He says we should hurry up, sir."

"We're good to go anyway." Climber picked up the camouflaged helmet and screwed it shut. In the cramped and strange smelling space, the HUD display was comfortingly familiar.

"_Alright everyone, remember the plan?_" he said privately.

"_No, we forgot in the last five minutes since you reminded us,_" joked Zip.

"_Shut up. Everyone get to your bikes_."

"_Do we have to abandon our armour_?" remarked Crash almost wistfully. "_It feels like leaving an old friend._"

"_Unless you can think of a good disguise for it, bro. Besides, I let you keep your blasters, _and_ that overgrown stick._"

"_And TC_," Zip added, though not without a little sourness. He had flatly refused to carry the bag with the bits in it, saying that he found it creepy.

Zirl howled again, this time sounding annoyed.

"_Ok, Ras and Zip grab a furball each and mount up._"

"_Why do _we_ get them?_" grumbled Zip.

"_Ah, Zip, you've learned why you shouldn't really annoy those in command..._"

"_Shut up. Since when did you have a sense of humour Crash?_"

"_You've corrupted me bro._"

As they set off Climber tucked the little crystal knife into his belt. Better not loose sarges' dagger.

XXXXXXXX

Commander Gilad Pellaeon wasn't happy about being posted on Kashyyyk, but he really had no choice. His requested transference was taking a long time in reaching his superiors on Coruscant, so in order to keep him busy he had been given temporary command of Kachirho... with all its attendant problems.

A com call from one of the recon groups interrupted his musings. The familiar green helmet of a scout trooper appeared.

"_Command, this is CT-23/4567. We have captured the two Wookies with unusual weapons and are requesting transference to the _Executrix."

Pellaeon blinked, his only conscession to his confusion. "CT-23/4567, this is command. No Wookies are due to be transported aboard the _Executrix_. Who gave those orders?"

"_It was a general issue, sir. The Wookies are considered traitors to the Empire and immediate transference was requested. Sir_."

Pellaeons' eyes narrowed. To be requested aboard a vessel like the _Executrix_ was fairly dire just for two Wookies. "What is the identification of these two?"

"_We believe them to be Zirlachuk and Yalatabuk of the traitorous organisation the Infinite Shadows. The orders were for all Shadows to be transported to Coruscant for interrogation, and since two of the leaders are aboard the_ Executrix_ we assumed_..."

Pellaeon checked the files and whistled softly. There _were_ directions for any captured members of the Infinite Shadows. "CT-23/4567, I'm sending out a squad to pick them up. Stand by and for stars sake don't let them escape."

"_Yes sir. Standing by, sir._"

"Very well."

Pellaeon transferred the order and sat back. For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he had a suspicious feeling about those troopers.

XXXXXXXX

"Did he swallow it?"

Climber glanced at Crash and did a thumbs-up. "Hook, line and sinker."

XXXXXXXX

Pellaeon watched as the four-man team returned from the outskirts with the two Wookies. He noticed- oddly, he thought- that one of them was walking in an uncomfortable fashion, as if he wasn't use to his boots.

The leader saluted, tucking the bag of metallic items under his opposite arm. For a disturbing moment Pellaeon thought he could see a head. "We have retrieved the Wookies as requested, sir."

Pellaeon had served long enough not to pay attention to the sameness of troopers' voices, but for some reason he noted it now.

"Good work, trooper. A shuttle is being prepared for transference to the _Executrix_. Make your way to the landing pad."

The other saluted again. "Yes sir."

_Polite fellow_, thought Pellaeon as they escorted the Wookies away.

XXXXXXXX

"_What did you keep saluting him for_?" hissed Crash to their nominal leader.

"_That's what troopers do_," hissed back Climber. "_Anyway, I notice _you_ weren't very convincing back there. What's with the limp?_"

"_It's this stupid_ di'kutla _armour; I can't_ walk_ in it..._"

"_Beats me how we can have the same DNA as them and not fit in this stuff_."

"_Crash, you missed a bit_," said Zip, pointing surreptitiously at his brothers' shoulder. The other craned his head round to look at the red splatters.

"_Blast. And blood's a bugger of a stain to get out._" He tried to scrape it off on one of the starports' support beams.

A _Theta_-class T-2c shuttle drifted down through the sparse foliage, accompanied by two T.I.E fighter craft. Ras passed on a growled remark from Yala, currently occupying a pair of binders.

"_She says we should concentrate on getting out of here alive instead of scratching itches._"

"_Yalas' starting to sound almost like sarge, isn't she?_" observed Zip.

"_A good reason to shut up and do what she says, Zip_," Climber told him.

A bureaucratic-looking officer ushered them onboard. Without a word, they were sat down in the passenger area, sitting absolutely still as they felt the planet fall away under them.

Zip squirmed nervously. "_Is it just me, or are we about to die?_"

"_If you don't stop fidgeting it might be sooner rather than later_," Climber snarled.

"_You know what I wish? Apart from us not being here of course._"

"_What?_" asked Ras.

"_I wish I had a nice cold __Vitajuice_" He kicked his heels against the hard bench. "_Or maybe some __Jaar__. Or __Bribb. Or-_"

"_Shut up._"

"_I'd just settle for some _air conditioning_ in here, shesh..._"

"_Shut up._"

"_Kothtri__, now there's a-_"

"_Zip, how the hell did you ever get through training?_"

"_I cheated a lot."_

"_You know what I wish?_" said Crash suddenly.

"_You want to kill something?_"

"_Funny. I wish we had __Dew cake__ like sarge sometimes made._"

"_Never thought you'd start thinking of your stomach, bro._"

"_I wasn't. I thought maybe we could use them to stun that officer..._"

Climber started to chuckle involuntarily. "_They weren't _that _bad_.

"_Yeah? Remember what happened when you dropped one your foot?_"

"_It was a bad batch_."

The ship shuddered, as if in protest at the laughter. Climber sobered up at once.

"_We're here._"

They were all thrown a few inches in the air as they landed with a bump. Zip stood up gingerly, swearing.

"_I think this armour just ruptured me..._"

"_Bro, we really didn't need to know that._"

The officer walked in from the cockpit, arrogantly gesturing for them to follow. They did so.

"_I bags being the one that shoots him_," whispered Crash.

"_Aww, no fair._"

They made their way and down the ramp, towards the detention area.

XXXXXXXX

Pellaeon toyed restlessly with his computer terminal. Something was bothering him.

Those clones now... something about those clones was nagging him. In some indefinable way, they had caught his interest, which was not something that troopers usually did. And those Wookies as well. They had been too relaxed- too _passive_ for captives. Most of the Wooks here had to be stunned to next week before being moved...

The com receiver on the terminal beeped, and he pressed the activator. A helmet appeared.

"_Sir, we've just found Gamma squad!_"

"What? But they've just gone up to the _Executrix_!"

"_It's certainly Gamma squad, sir. The bodies were armourless and had been concealed, but it still looks like-_"

"Wait, the bodies were concealed? Without armour?" Pellaeon experienced a sinking feeling.

"_Yes sir._"

Too well brought up to swear, he contented himself with punching off the com and switching on the long-range transceiver. An irate face appeared at the other end, familiar to every serving officer in the Imperial army.

"_This had better be good, commander._"

Pellaeon swallowed nervously. "Moff Tarkin, I think you may have been infiltrated..."

XXXXXXXX

The Shadows had got as far as the detention block entrance when things started going wrong.

They stepped through the monitor area, walked up the corridor, opened a random cell, and were shot at.

Luckily they were at the T-junction of two corridors, so as soon as they heard the first blaster they were able to duck around a corner and pull into cover. Zip looked at Climber pleadingly.

The clone sighed. "Fine, go ahead."

Smirking, the commando reached into his belt and pulled out a small metal sphere, which he lobbed casually down the corridor they had come down. There was a brief moment's silence, a flash and a bang that made Zirl and Yala roar with pain.

Zip whooped. "I love my job!"

"Shut up and split up."

They did so, each taking one side of a passageway. Zip smacked open a door and poked his head around the edge.

A bewildered-looking man stared back. "Who are you?"

"Clone Rescue Service, sorry to bother you, have a nice day." Zip exited quickly, running down to the next cell. He didn't however, lock the last one.

Zip was sentimental like that sometimes.

As he reached the fourth cell (after surprising an unwise crewman and a reckless trooper) Ras let out a yell.

"I got one!"

All six rushed down to his cell, only to be met with an opposing force.

It was Aine, dressed in his bodysuit and prison-issue grey shoes. Zip had never been happier to see him in his entire existence.

"Bro, we thought you were dead!"

"Well I'm not, now shut up and follow me there isn't much time!"

Drawn in his wake like leaves in a speeders backwash, they followed. To their surprise he didn't head for any of the cells, but went straight for the cell bays' storage sector.

"_Vod,_ shouldn't we be trying to get to-?"

"Yes but we need this stuff first trust me."

He punched the opening pad and went in. Feeling slightly foolish, the others waited outside as various clangs, curse words, and rattles echoed from inside. In a matter of minutes Aine had re-emerged, dressed in his commando helmet and chestplate and carrying a sack full of things that went 'clank'.

"She's down in the fifth cell; you'd better hurry up though."

Somewhat phased by his lack of surprise, Zip ran hastily down to the fifth cell and hit the opening pad. He stepped in and stopped in amazement.

Reuma was in there all right. And she wasn't alone.

XXXXXXXX

Ras had seen some things in his three years of service, but he would later say that what he saw after Zip opened the door of Cell 101 surpassed all attempts at description.

Being a fundamentally honest clone, he did his best. So start with Sergeant Reuma.

Prison does not let people look their best. Her crimson armour had been taken away, leaving grey slacks and a stained shirt, complete with her customary thick leather boots. Her hair in general resembled a multi-coloured mop of string, dark roots showing where it had grown out during their stay. She had a lot of bruises, of course, and she was still limping from the after-effects of the gangrene.

In her arm she held two small bundles of fabric. As she drew closer, they saw what they were and stopped breathing.

A pair of small faces, peaceful in sleep, peered back at them.

Ras gulped as Aine gently took both the children from his sergeant. They looked about a year and a half old, one a dark-haired boy, the other a blonde girl. They yawned a little as she passed them over.

A scraping noise drew attention to the _other_ occupant.

Zirl growled something nasty. It was a Trandoshan, small enough for Ras to think it was a child, as far as he could tell with lizards. What caught his attention was its hide.

Every one of its scales was white, in contrast to a pair of lilac eyes that were giving him an evil look. He got the distinct impression it didn't like him much.

Reuma noticed the Wookies reaction, glaring at them as Climber returned her knife. "Knock it off, whoever you are. Rakiss is coming with us."

"Um." It was Zip. "Is this the best time to ask why you've started a playgroup in here sarge?"

"No."

"Thought not."

"I'll explain on the _Star_." She looked at them, and they shuffled their feet. "You _did_ bring the _Star _didn't you?"

"Well..." said Climber wretchedly, "we were a bit strapped for time, so with one thing and another we couldn't actually think of a way to get it up here. Er."

"You haven't got a transport off here?" she asked edgily.

"Well we_ have_, it's just kinda...on the...planet..." He decided to give up.

"You..." She looked lost for words. "You..."

"Idiots?" said Zip helpfully.

"Something like that. We're _stuck_ here?"

"We thought we could maybe steal one of the Imps shuttles, sarge," said Climber.

Aine muttered something under his breath. It didn't sound polite.

"How?" she asked.

"No worries. We'll figure out a way."

"Um, excuse me?"

They looked around. It was the man from the cell Zip had opened, accompanied by the crewman and the trooper. All three looked a little nervous.

The man spoke up again, twisting a small black hat in his hands. "Um, I worked on the techs before...here... I thought maybe, um, I could be of some help...?"

Reuma took pity on the poor man. "Can you get us to the nearest shuttle bay?"

He bobbed his head hastily. "Sure, I mean, yes ma'am. It isn't very far, but, er, I don't suppose..."

"You want to come too?"

He gulped. "Please ma'am."

They all looked at the other two. The crewman was older than his fellows, features marred by a faint look of distaste. His light grey uniform was freshly pressed and starched; his olive cap was at just the right angle. He didn't look pleased at the situation, but acquiesced as well with a nod of his head.

The trooper was, if possible, even more edgy than the tech. Unlike the other two he was, by necessity, mostly un-uniformed, dressed like Aine in prison issue grey shoes and black body stocking. Ras put him down as one of the new batch of Jango clones.

It could be a problem. Ordinary clone troopers were trained for little personality and lots of loyalty, and unlike the commandos they had no _Cuy'val Dar _trainers to help them.

He looked very young. Ras wondered if it was his first time off Kamino.

Aine might have scented danger as well, because he cut in over his trainer to ask, "What are you called, trooper?"

The reply was almost inaudible. "CT-11/38-2246616 sir."

_Sir,_ Ras noted. The kid was either taking the piss, overawed or up to something.

"You don't have a name?" Aine asked gently.

"No sir."

The commando paused, as if wondering how to phrase his next sentence. "Do you want to come with us?"

There was a long silence. CT-11/38-2246616 looked uncomfortable. "I shouldn't, sir. It's traitorous and wrong."

"But _do_ you?" asked Reuma.

He looked at the floor. "I don't want to be executed, ma'am," he said simply.

And that was it. Every person present banished their doubts, because every person present knew what the trooper meant.

He didn't want to die. Neither did they.

Reuma extended a scarred hand.

"Join the club," she said.

XXXXXXXX

Crewman Aiod K'asf had been given early leave from his post that particular day. In a very roundabout way, it was about to save his life, something he would not appreciate until much, much later.

At the particular moment in time he was walking down to his quarters when he saw the odd parade that was the Shadow escape attempt.

In front were two clone commandos, in full gear and sporting a variety of nasty-looking weapons. In front of them and carrying a bag that clanked ominously was Jax Veila, a techie from the lower levels that as far as K'asf knew had been arrested for going AWOL a few days ago. Slightly behind him was a bizarre figure in red armour, accompanied by _another_ clone, this one carrying two bundles emitting strange mewling noises. In the middle was- and this made K'asf rub his eyes a little- a small, white Trandoshan, being closely watched by a tall, dark furred Wookie, another and lighter Wookie walked behind them, followed by Crewman Deman Fergal and yet _more _clones!

For a moment it made him wonder if there had been alcohol in the lunchtime water ration.

Luckily for him the mismatched group was as surprised by his appearance as he was by theirs. By the time the first two clones had raised their blasters, K'asf had pulled himself together and sprinted back down to the canteen. He heard a sharply barked order, a sigh and the clatter of a weapon being put away before he had slammed the canteen door shut and hidden under one of the tables.

Sometimes, it is said, it is best to be a coward today in order to be a hero tomorrow.

XXXXXXXX

"_You shoulda let me frag him,_" grumbled Crash.

"_Sorry laddie, but this isn't a search-and-destroy mission. Besides, it might have upset our guide._"

"_Is it just me or are the corridors unusually quiet?_" mentioned Zip. It had been preying on his mind for a while.

"_I know you don't like us using this phrase, sarge, but it's way too quiet for good,_" put in Ras.

"_Too good to be true_," said Climber.

"_Which means it probably is_," said Reuma firmly. "_It's a trap._"

"_Beats me how they knew which corridor we'd choose_."

"_It doesn't beat _me," said Reuma, "'_cos_ I_ saw that crewman send a message when we left_."

There was a stunned silence. "_You_ saw_ him betray us? And you didn't_ say_ anything?_" asked Climber.

"_Of course not. Foolishness._"

"_But why didn't you-_"

"_Climber, what would have happened if I had stopped him?_" asked Reuma patiently.

"_Well, I suppose..._"

"_They'd have attacked us right outside the cell block, right? Probably wiped us out. Whereas now that basterd Tarkin has had a chance to set a diabolical trap, offer a sight of freedom before whisking it away, blahdy blah_, incidentally_ giving us an unhindered run to the hanger bay and a chance to prepare for the several dozen troopers we know are waiting for us on the other side of the doors._"

Zip whistled slowly. "_Stars, sarge, that's one devious brain you've got there_."

"_I know that old fart, laddie. It makes him easy to predict._"

"_How...?_"

"_Oh, Kenobi met him once and I was present. I got the drop on the twisted bugger as soon as he started to talk. Like a lesser version of Palpatine, that man_."

"_Do we shoot the traitor now sarge?_" asked Crash.

"_Nah, leave him. He'll probably run when we make a break for the hanger_."

"_But he betrayed-_"

"_Sure he did. But what do you suppose his_ superiors _will think after we've escaped, eh?_"

After a moment's quiet- "_Sarge, you have the evilest mind I've ever come across_," said Crash. He sounded faintly awed.

"_Thank you,_ vod'ika."

Zip had a peculiar insight as the hanger bay doors drew closer. In various ways, across each and every one of them, their trainer had left traces of her personality. All trainers did this, the Skitira-trained clones he'd met had been peculiar, the Vau-trained had been sociopaths, and the Davin-trained ones had been aggressive.

His own brothers had all had Reuma rubbed off on them as well. Crash had inherited her psychopathic tendencies towards enemies, Climber had picked up a certain amount of sarcasm and sense of irony, Aine was sometimes quiet and philosophical, Ras was shy around people he didn't know and Zip was sure his own twisted humour had been caught of their trainer.

_I guess that means we_ are _related, in a way,_ he marvelled._ We all have bits of her in us. I wonder if she has bits of us in her?_

He was still thinking about it as the blast doors slid open and they stepped through into the trap that awaited them.


	5. Infinite babysitters

**4: Infinite babysitters**

_Targets have entered the hanger. Awaiting orders._

_-Message from Commander RK-1897_

Aine had never, ever in the past been truly afraid before a battle, but he was afraid now.

Before he hadn't had anything to loose.

Oh he had had his brothers, and then on Kashyyyk there had been sarge (his mind shied away from what had happened then) but they had been warriors all, and they had know the risks and accepted them and he had never really seen them as vulnerable. And he had always been certain of what he had to do. Namely blast everything in front of him to atoms.

Now though...

He was responsible, at that very moment, for two totally innocent and helpless lives. He, the Shadows, and a few strangers- bar the crewman, he had disappeared as soon as the doors had opened- were all that stood between these two little ones and a horrible death. The responsibility in itself was frightening.

For a few seconds that stretched into hours of quiet, all was still. There was, perhaps, a full company of about 144 troopers in the hanger, all kitted out in strange new white armour.

The Shadows, along with the remaining newbie's, bunched up. The hanger wasn't exactly spacious. Some of the enemy troopers looked a little squashed together. Aine noticed that CT-11/38-2246616 was looking deeply miserable as he beheld his former comrades.

_You'll learn_, Aine thought darkly.

The Trandoshan kid wasn't looking happy either, and Aine noticed how both of them were shifting towards Reuma a little. He smiled faintly.

A voice boomed out from a speaker system overhead. "**Traitors to the Empire, put down your weapons and prepare for detainment. Failure to comply will result in execution."**

"Once more with pride!" shouted Zip sarcastically. The toddlers in Aines' arms woke up and started to cry.

The sound seemed to act as a stimulant to Reumas vocal abilities. "You and that snot-faced Moff of yours can take your detainment and shove it up your arse! We don't surrender to the likes of you!"

Jax Veila looked a little sick. Ras gave him an encouraging pat on the arm.

"No worries, sarge'll get us out of this."

It might have been a lot more comforting if he hadn't added, "Probably."

"**Is that your final response?"**

"_Zip, how many would your dets take out?_" whispered Reuma down the private channel.

"_If I aim over there I could make about fifty of 'em go boom,_" he replied with confidence.

"_Anyone else got dets?_"

"_I could take out another forty with mine, sarge,_" whispered Crash.

"_Good lad. Get ready on my signal._"

"**Failure to comply in the next sixty seconds will result in termination**."

"_I wonder if it's a Kaminoan on the other end of that line_."

Reuma cleared her throat. "What does compliance mean for us exactly?"

Aine recognised a stalling technique when he saw one, and apparently so did the voice. "**You will be returned to your cells to await further judgement. Surrender now or be destroyed**."

"_Ok, when I say 'now'_." Reuma cupped her hand around her mouth, incidentally moving her blaster up to her firing position. "Alright, Mister Imp Person, you win. We'll put our weapons down_ now now now_!"

Crash and Zip lobbed metal spheres at the surrounding troopers, Climber and Ras started to fire and Aine ducked down behind them in an effort to protect the two little beings in his arms. Both Wookies, bowcaster and long-gun blazing, used the protection of their clone comrades' armour as cover for their devastating shots. It was a good strategy.

Unfortunately, even with more than ninety troopers killed by the dets and another dozen or so obliterated in the first assault there were still more than forty left, and those forty wasted no time in firing on the assorted traitors to the Empire. Only pure good fortune and a handy T.I.E fighter saved them.

Aine looked around wildly, trying to think how to get out of the trap. "_What do we do?_" he shouted at his sergeant.

"_What makes you think I _know?" she yelled back.

"You don't have a _plan_?" asked Veila, sounding horrified.

Everyone looked at each other, except for Crash, who was grimly concentrating on his targets. "Ideas anyone?" sarge asked.

"Scream and run like babies?" Zip wilted under the group glare. "Just saying."

Zirl grunted something. Ras coughed and translated. "He says that we have grenades. We could just throw them around until they give up."

"Any other ideas?" Sarge looked around with a faint air of desperation. "Any at all..."

"Nope," Zip told her.

"I was afraid of that."

He grinned and pulled out a pair of detonators. "Permission to let all hell break loose sarge?"

"Permission granted, under the assumption you are not going to blow as all back to Kashyyyk."

"Aye aye sarge!" He stood up and lobbed them.

There was a breathless pause, then a boom that resounded off the walls and made flecks of shrapnel – along with more unpleasant objects – fly around the T.I.E. Ras poked his helmet around the edge.

"They're falling back," he reported.

"You surprise me." Sarge stood up. "Chuck and run!"

Zip chucked, and they ran.

The Stormtroopers didn't put up much of a battle. A small amount had kept hold of their blasters enough to fire a few bolts after the fleeing Shadows, but they were wild and missed, or ricocheted off the shuttle.

Aine kept a tight grip on his two burdens as he ran up the ramp, in to the passenger area and let the safety of the darkness inside envelope him.

The shuttle lifted off into space. They were free.

For now.

XXXXXXXX

And then there were thirteen.

Reuma was (or said she was) confident that they could outmanoeuvre any Imperial pursuit on their way to Denon, although with their meagre supplies it was going to be a long trip. Not to mention their other problems.

As soon as they entered hyperspace Reuma called a meeting in the passenger area. Amid the benches and the tangle of weapons dropped from exhausted hands she plonked herself down and said bluntly, "Spill it."

They spilled it. CT-11/38-2246616 was particularly interested in the trip to Arkania, although he seemed to shy (or scared) to comment on their reason. He contented himself with sitting in the corner and listening to the various conversations.

Reuma listened, shook her head, and started to tell _their _story.

After their detention, it seemed, Imperial orders had had them sent straight to the _Executrix_. Evidently Tarkin had stopped on his way to Coruscant, and had taken their capture as chance to integrate further into Palpatines favour.

"He was a wee bit enthusiastic about that," said Reuma dryly. "When we were being loaded onto our shuttle, a couple more troopers came running up with Rakiss. Apparently the slavers had said he was Force-sensitive."

They all looked at the Trandoshan. He made a face back at them.

"Is he?" asked Climber doubtfully. She snorted.

"About as much as _you_ are, kid. They were just trying to get rid of a runty albino."

Rakiss, she went on, had been carried along just in case and taken up with them. If it hadn't been for the arrival of a strange ship just after they had been taken, they would already be halfway to Imperial Centre at that moment.

"It was a courier," explained Reuma. "I'll bet it jumped there 'cos it needed to set coordinates for the Outer Rim or similar. Problem was, it wasn't just a trading vessel."

"Smugglers?" asked Ras. She shook her head.

"Jedi."

There was a collective drawing-in of breath. "Gods," muttered Crash.

Aine took up the story. "They were in disguise of course, posing as merchants from Corellia. Unfortunately for them their descriptions had been pasted over every terminal in the Imperial network. We were being taken offship to the cells when one of the crewmen recognised them."

"They fought well," said Veila quietly. They all looked at him. "I was one of the ones who searched the ship. The Jedi came straight out, two of them, wielding those lightsabers of theirs, disarming as much as they could avoid killing."

"Jedi all right," commented Climber with irony.

The other shook his head sadly. "They were very brave, but it was an open space and there were too many troopers."

Reuma picked carried on with the account. "They were killed, both of 'em. Unlike us, the Imps didn't want 'em alive." She sighed. "Poor devils."

"That would have been that, if they hadn't discovered two more inside the ship," added Aine. "I saw the Imps when they disembarked, holding them."

"I suppose they got killed as well?" said Crash bitterly.

Aine shook his head. "They were given to us to look after." He grinned slightly at the blank looks of his rescuers. "Haven't you guessed? I carried them up to this ship!"

With one motion, they all turned to look at the two toddlers, absorbed in a peek-a-boo game with Rakiss. Now that they looked at their clothes...

"No_ way_," said Ras with awe.

"Yes way. The little girl's called Cassa, the boy's called Tryst. It seems some of the younglings got out of the Temple, thank gods. The two Jedi must have nurses or caretakers."

"Which _we_ ended up being," added Aine wryly. "Sarge was probably the only female on the ship, so she got lumbered with them to save prison space." He patted the bag he had been carrying, which gave a glassy _clink_. "And food of course."

"What's being female got to do with it?" asked Zip.

Reuma and Aine shared a glance. Aine saved her the trouble of replying. "It's an _aruetiise_ thing, Zip. Something to do with maternal instincts."

"Maternal?" Crash laughed. "_Sarge_?"

She scowled at him. "I coped with you lot didn't I?"

Climber headed off a potential fight. "What about you two?" he asked of the non-Shadows.

Jax Veila looked nervous, but replied anyway. "I went AWOL on Kegan. I was trying to contact my family, but I was found out after the Jedi fight and locked up to await a court-martial."

"Where is your family?" asked Reuma gently.

"Back on Aargonar." He heaved a sigh. "My parents were so proud when I left to join the navy. I only hope my escape doesn't impact on them."

The name made something _click_ in Reumas' head. "Wasn't there a battle there a few years ago?"

"Yes. We saw the flares from the farm." Veila looked dejected. "I should never have left. I was happy enough there, but..."

"Got tired of sand?" Zip asked sardonically.

"Oh no, not that. But I wanted to make my parents proud of me."

All clone commandos present shared a look. "We can understand that," Climber told him.

Reuma didn't respond. "What about you, kid?"

CT-11/38-2246616 fidgeted. "I disobeyed orders, ma'am."

"What orders?"

In the dim light it was hard to tell, but he looked as though he was flushing. "I... I hesitated before attacking the Mon Calamari ma'am. One of my battalion got hit by a blaster, so I slowed down to help him." He looked down at his feet. "I didn't know it was against the code! I thought we were supposed to help each other."

Climber patted the upset trooper on the arm. "You did ok, _vod_. You acted _exactly_ as you should have done."

"I'm not _vod_," he said softly. "We aren't the same as you... we can't be. We were made different. We were trained different, sir."

Reuma stepped in. "Regardless of what you _were_, what you _are_ is _vod_. There's always a space in the Shadows for someone who'll save a mates life."

He looked torn. "I... I can't..."

"You can if you want. Unless you want to go back and be executed." She smiled gently at him. "Trust me, if you join us then you won't want to go back- not after a trip to Arkania or so..."

CT-11/38-2246616 looked up, then back down, then up again. He took a deep breath. "I don't have any special skills, ma'am."

"Don't worry," said Zip, "Neither does Crash."

"One day I am going to be holding my carbine when you say that."

The clone almost smiled. "Ok then, sir. I think I can."

The Shadows whooped. Climber slapped him on the back in a comradely fashion. "Welcome aboard. No worries, you'll soon fit right in."

"Yeah," put in Zip, "You'll soon be as insane as the rest of us."

"Thanks for the uplifting speech, Zip."

"You need a name now," Ras decided. The others roared their agreement. "Any favourites?"

CT-11/38-2246616 turned slightly red. "Um, I don't know much Mandalorian, but there was one word..."

"Yeah?"

"I thought...maybe...Tor? I liked the sound of it."

Reuma stared. By luck or design, he had chosen the Mando'a word for_ justice_. "It's a good name. It suits you."

"Thank you ma'am." The smile was very real now. "Thank you."

Veila coughed. "I, ah, I have no military skills to speak of, ma'am." Zip grinned.

"Neither does Crash...ow!"

"What do you want to do?" asked Reuma. "We can drop you off somewhere safe if you want."

"Please, ma'am. But where?"

She smirked. "No worries, I know the perfect spot for desert-dwellers hiding from the Empire. As long as you don't mind moisture farming."

"What about the children?" enquired Ras. "Not to mention what we're going to do for a ship..."

Rakiss spoke for the first time. "I come with you. You _promise_." He glared at Reuma.

Zirl growled, and he growled back. "I not am bothered about big furballs. Only mind if _they_ do."

"We're a pirate group, not a day-care centre," Climber told him.

"I being a good pirate," the Trandoshan said indignantly. "Real savage!"

"Rak," said Reuma gently, "It's too dangerous. What if we get caught?"

"_Bucketheads_ not care how old I am," he pleaded, "They shoot me whatever! Why you care if they not?"

"Good point," noted Ras.

"Ten's too young to fight..." Reuma protested weakly.

"_We_ were ten at Geonosis, sarge."

"It's not the same thing!"

"Well, where else is he going to go?"

She stared at him, momentarily stumped for words. There _wasn't_ anywhere else he could go.

Yala yowled something. Ras translated. "She says she'll keep him out of trouble if he has to stay, sarge."

Crash coughed, hiding a laugh. He could guess what the Wookie would do to 'keep him out of trouble'.

Reuma just threw up her arms. "Fine! Alright! We change our name to the Infinite Babysitters! But I'm telling you, kiddo, one wrong move and I'm dumping you on Trandosha."

Rakiss' grin stretched from eye to eye. "No worries," he said cheekily.

Zip roared with laughter.

"What do we do with Tryst and Cassa?" asked Ras. Everyone sobered up.

"No idea," Reuma admitted.

Veila cleared his throat. "I could take them..." Reuma shook her head.

"You can take_ one._ Two unrelated children would be too conspicuous."

He saw the sense behind that. "What of the other?"

"I dunno..." She looked uncertain. "We can't split them up too much. They're all they've got."

"There's bound to be a couple willing to adopt", said Aine.

"I suppose."

"We've got a lot to do then," noted Ras. "Drop him off, get Tor to Arkania, get another freighter and some starfighters..."

"We will probably have to split," said Aine.

"Oh, and that turned out _really_ well last time."

"It'll be quicker. And safer, since the Empire will be looking for a group our size."

"We'll split," Reuma decided. They all looked at her. "I'll take Veila to Tatooine; Climber can take Tor to Arkania, Aine can get us some snubs..."

"I can't actually fly, ma'am," confessed Tor. Zip opened his mouth.

Crash gave him a look. "Don't even think of saying it."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You know. Now don't say it."

"It's no problem," Reuma told him. "You can gun."

"Thanks ma'am."

"I love it when things get sorted out," said Climber dryly.

"Can I go fix TC now?" Zip asked hopefully. Reuma sighed.

"Must you?"

XXXXXXXX

"Almost there?"

Reuma looked around. Climber had slid through the cockpit door from the passenger area, slumping down in the co-pilot seat next to her. She smiled.

"Thirty minutes at most."

"There's something you should see."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Come and look."

She got up and followed him out into the passenger area. Most present were dead to the world, tucked under the shuttles emergency thermal blankets, using their arms as pillows. TC-16 stood half-finished in the corner, shiny finish looking distinctly worse for wear.

"Over there."

Jax Veila was propped upright against the wall, chin slumped down to his chest, his tunic pillowed under his head. In his arms, cuddled against his shoulder, was Tryst. Both were sound asleep.

Reuma smiled, saying softly, "Quite a picture."

"Makes you want a holocam."

She sighed. "I was thinking... about what to do after we get another ship and drop him off."

"Oh?" They started to make their way back to the pilot seats. She offered him a mint, which he accepted absently.

"I was thinking of going to Mandalore. Give up the pirating. Start a new life."

"It wouldn't work, sarge."

She shot him a look. "You think?"

"I _know_, sarge. We're Mandalorians, yeah- you gave us that. But we're soldiers, not farmers."

"You could be."

"We can't be. We're commandos. _Verda_. It's what we're born for."

"You can be a soldier and a father. Hell, if_ Jango_ can manage it..."

"We aren't him," he said quietly. "Not where it counts. Sorry."

She grunted. "Don't be. All things considered it's probably a good thing youare different from him. He woulda quit this insane venture long ago."

"Why?"

"He was pragmatic like that."

Climber wondered how to phrase his next question. "Sarge, you know how he asked you to train us..."

"Yeah?"

"Why?" He blushed a bit. "I mean, how did he know you would? You said on Kamino about the _Cuy'val_ _Dar_ and why they came..."

"About how they were either in debit, in trouble, or insane?"

"Well- yes. Which one were you?"

"None of 'em." She leant back thoughtfully. "Or all of them. Kid, all I can tell you is that I owed Fett something, and I went to Kamino to pay it back."

"What did you owe him?"

The blue wash of hyperspace bathed her face in light, etching her scars in grim black outline. She touched them. "These."

Climber felt his chest freeze. "He... he didn't..."

"Make 'em? No. But it's his fault I got 'em." She gave him a sharp-toothed grin, looking even more surreal in the radiance of unspace. "C'mon kid, he was a bounty hunter. It wasn't his fault his client was a little annoyed with me."

"I don't understand."

Reuma gaze an exasperated groan. "It's simple enough. I had a bounty on me. It was a big one. He got interested, found me -of course- and hauled me off to face the music. The music mostly being me screaming of course."

"But you said you owed him..." Climber was lost at sea. "Am I missing something here?"

"Yeah. The ending." She cracked her knuckles and yawned. "The idiot who set the bounty tried a double-cross. You don't do that to people like Jango. Since he was there anyway, he let me out of my cell. I am in debt to him for my continued existence."

"But you don't owe him anything," objected Climber, "It was down to him that you were there in the first place!"

"Kid, what did I tell you? He was _beroya_, a bounty hunter. Him letting me out at all is a big thing."

"But if he hadn't taken the bounty..."

"Well I'd be down a few scars. But I'd also be down you, and Ras, and Aine, and Zip and Crash."

"You didn't know that when you took the money."

"I know _this_." She looked him in the eye. "I know that he didn't have to come back for me. I know he'd met my grandfather, my father- yeah I had family at Galidraan, don't look surprised. Taruni don't shirk from fights. I know they'd fought together. It was enough, back then."

"And now?" Climber couldn't stop himself. "Is it still worth it?"

She didn't even stop to think. "Yes. I owe him even more now."

"I still don't understand."

"Maybe you will," she said faintly, as cobalt faded to black, "someday."

XXXXXXXX

The parting was emotional. All present knew that they might not be seeing each other again.

Reuma gave Climber a datapad. "Here are my account details for my Corusca Bank deposit. It should cover the treatment."

He took it gingerly. "Thanks sarge."

She turned to Aine, who was being escorted by Yala, Ras and Zip. "_This_ one is for my Aargau bank account. You should probably try Commenor, they do good ships."

"Any suggestions?"

She thought it over. "Something fast."

She pulled out two bags and pressed them into the hands of the two clones. "You'll need cash for the shuttle tickets, and some left over. Don't spend it all at once."

Zips' eyes lit up. "How much left over?"

"Enough for souvenirs," she said dryly. "If you need me I'll be on Corellia, so use long-range settings."

"Do we meet you there?" asked Climber.

She considered this. "Nah, it's too heavily populated." A thought seemed to strike her. "Have any of you heard of Vjun?"

They all shook their heads.

"Good. That means the Imps probably haven't either. I'll send you all coordinates."

"Er, sarge?" It was Zip. "If they haven't heard of it why have you?"

"Hyperdrive broke when I tried to go to Mandalore. Take a tip- wear wet weather gear when you land."

"Rainy?"

"Think Kamino. Only _acid_ rain."

"How are w_e_ going to get there?" asked Climber. "We won't have ships."

"Yes you will, 'cos you'll be meeting with Aine's lot on Bogden. Watch out for the locals though, I'm not sure if things have improved since I last went there."

Silence fell. There was a certain amount of coughing and shuffled feet. Climber looked at the sun, half hidden by the clouds of pollution.

"Time to go?"

A general murmur, slightly reluctant, conceded his point. Reuma hand-clasped them each one by one, handing over packets that smelt familiarly aromatic.

"Take care. Try not to get into trouble."

"No worries," Zip said airily, "We never get into trouble."

She gave him a Look. "_Now_ I'm concerned."

Aine pulled a scarf over his face and left, taking his group with him. All of them had left their stolen armour in Reumas' care... just in case. All had fake IDs courtesy of Yarkul, and as far as makeup could disguise them they were disguised. Nothing untoward should happen to them.

Reuma tried telling herself that as they parted ways. It didn't help.


	6. Facts of life

**5: Facts of life**

_I'm guessing you've impounded my ship by now. If you scratch it, you're dead._

_-message to _Executrix_, unknown location._

"Hey, big boy. You're new."

Tor turned around. Climber- under the alias Dorn Redstar- was haggling for tickets in front of them. The speaker was a green skinned Twi'lek, accompanied by a Theelin. Both were female, and both had decided to leave very little to the imagination when getting dressed that morning.

Tor stared, before remembering his manners. "Hello ma'am," he said politely.

The Twi'lek shared a look with her partner, before turning back to him. She unleashed a devastating smile. "You look lonely. Want some company?"

"Um..." Tor felt a little out of his depth. "I've already got company ma'am." He pointed at Climber, now exchanging credits for tickets with the booth droid.

She looked nonplussed. "Well, fancy some _female_ company, sweetie? I like your face, so I won't charge much."

_Charge?_ thought Tor with puzzlement.

The Theelin, scarlet hair spiked in waves arching back from her forehead, joined in. "It needn't be long if you have a shuttle to catch. We know a place."

Her friend stepped up the offensive, leaning closer to the mystified clone. She stroked his cheek. "I'm sure there are things you'd like us to do," she purred.

Tors' response was all he could think of. For some reason her touch was making him feel extremely strange, and he knew from his training that feeling strange wasn't a good thing. It led to trouble.

"I'd quite like you to go away," he said honestly.

Abruptly the duos demeanour changed. "Well!" snapped the Twi'lek, pulling away.

The Theelin gave a long look, before finally sniffing. "Probably has no money anyway."

"Let's go find someone who appreciates women!" the other suggested.

"Agreed. That one looks as though he could use some companionship."

They set off in the direction of a well-dressed human. Tor stared after them, as Climber tapped his shoulder.

"C'mon bro, we got a shuttle to catch."

Tor turned dazedly. Sometimes he thought he would never understand normals.

XXXXXXXX

Zip had rarely, if ever, felt so conspicuous. Even though there was no reason- he was heavily disguised as a red haired, bearded and blue eyed native of Alderaan- he felt as though he was walking through the starport with RENEGADE CLONE tattooed on his head.

"Sarge, I think that woman's watching us," he hissed.

Aine turned in exasperation. They had been waiting in the passenger lounge for over and hour, his gloved artificial hand was irritating him and the crowds weren't improving his temper. He regarded his be-whiskered brother with annoyance.

"Don't be bloody ridiculous," he snarled quietly, "Why would she?"

Zip looked at his suspect in the line next to them. The woman- dark haired and dark eyed- looked back with amusement. Zip got the feeling she knew that she was being talked about.

"Sarge, I'm serious, she's really giving me the creeps!"

Yala growled quietly.

"I am _not_ being paranoid! She's watching us!"

"Zip if you say _one more word_ I'm going to come back there and-"

"She's walking over!"

The woman stood in front of them and bowed slightly. "Greetings. I am Lanu Pasiq. Are you heading for Commenor?"

Aine shifted slightly, giving their cover story. "Uh, yeah, we're going to buy starships for Alderaan Civil Fleet."

"Oh?" She affected look surprised, but Zip noticed her lips twitch. "I had thought I heard over the Holonet that it had been disbanded. Apparently senator Organa dismantled the planetary defence system. Five months ago I believe."

_Oh shit_. Zip exchanged a wild look with Ras. Now what?

Pasiq laughed lightly. "Oh dear, I shouldn't have said that should I? I suppose it doesn't matter really."

Aine swallowed. "No, guess not."

"I suspect you would rather I left now," she said with a smile. "I hope your trip is successful."

Aine gulped, his mouth dry. "Y-yeah, yours as well."

They watched her leave for the flight to Duro. Ras spoke up.

"Sir, what if-"

"I _know_, Ras. We can't help it if she is." Aine looked nerve-wracked as he stepped towards their checkpoint. "We'll just have to start praying."

The clone sergeant stepped through the weapons detector. As the alarm started beeping Zip risked a glance at Pasiq. She was talking animatedly to a blond haired human man, and for some reason Zip thought they were the subject.

_Stop that_, he told himself, _you really _are _being paranoid!_

The security guard ordered Aine to step aside. Aine grinned- as if to suggest he was used to stupidity and found it funny- and took the glove off his right hand. Metal glinted.

Ras stifled a laugh as the security guard turned red with embarrassment and ushered Aine through. Zip turned away from the chatting twosome to follow his sergeant to the landing pads.

He felt something tap his shoulder, and turned. The only person behind him was a hassled-looking Gand, who regarded him crossly from all three eyes.

"C'mon bro, _move_ it!"

He spun and ran after them. Dust drifted down behind him.

XXXXXXXX

Fynn Torve had been away from Corellia for too long, in his reckoning. His spice shipment had been delivered; his pay was weighing in his pocket and his KR-TB freighter _Swift n' Sure_ was loaded up and ready to go. There was no reason, therefore, for him not to take this passenger job.

Apart from the fact that bad news travelled fast, and he would have recognised the person in front of him even dressed in an Aeien silk robe with her hair dyed a dull grey-brown.

"No way," he said bluntly.

"Oh _come on_, Torve," said the woman in front of him. "It's just one little run to Corellia."

"I'm not doing it I tell you! The whole of the underworld knows what happens to smugglers who help people like you!"

"Do they tell you what happens to smugglers who _don't _help people like me?" she asked sweetly. The taller man beside her looked as though he was trying not to smile.

"Now see here you can't just go around threatening m-"

"I'm not _threatening_," she said patiently, "I'm just stating a fact. I need a transport to Corellia, and you're the only Corellian I know about who won't dump us halfway up the Run. I'm not letting this go, Torve."

He fidgeted a little. "You sure the Empire hasn't tracked you here?"

"Torve, if they _had_ would I still be talking to you?"

He accepted her line of reasoning. "Well the fees a thousand each, but only 'cos I was going there anyway. And afterwards..."

"... I've never heard of you, or your ship. Gimme some credit, captain, I've done this before you know."

"Fine... fine. Just get on board and keep the kiddies quiet. And I hope to gods that lizard of yours is house-broken."

Rakiss pulled a face at him and muttered something rude as they trailed up the ramp. A smack and a yelp echoed from inside.

"Not in front of the children, Rak."

Torve was thankful the trip was a short one.

XXXXXXXX

On the retired AA-9 interstellar transport the _Cwik Carrier _two clones were trying to act like civilians.

It wasn't coming easily to them.

Tor would have been the first to admit that his sergeant and fellow Shadow was much better suited to undercover work than he. Climber had been on dozens of campaigns, had seen the galaxy at its worst and best, and was, frankly, a damn sight more experienced than he was. There was very little that surprised him.

Tor was as different from the commando as a person sharing the same DNA could be. In contrast, most of his ten years of life had been spent on Kamino, the rest had either been on the _Executrix_ or on Mon Calimari, making the basis of his social interaction among sentients being ordered around by...well, by pretty much everyone.

And yet here he was, drinking blue milk that tasted of old socks and wearing civilian clothes. It was incredible to think that, for the first time on his life, he wasn't in uniform. He kept wanting to examine his duffel coat for insignias.

Climber got up for another milk and told him to stay put. Tor sipped his and tried not to look conspicuous.

Tinkling laughter caught his attention and he looked up, nearly inhaling his drink when he saw the trio coming through the eatery doors.

The Twi'lek- leaning with her head on a dapper man with a merchant look about him- gave another laugh as he escorted her to a table. Her friend, seeming somewhat bored, trailed after her. Tor quickly looked down as she glanced in his direction.

Of all the luck! Two mad females on the same ship as him!

He almost yelled when someone tapped him on the shoulder, but it was only Climber.

"Bro, I'm going to the 'fresher. Be right back."

He nodded hastily, looking under his partners arm towards the threesome. The Twi'lek was cuddling up to the man again. Her partner was sitting as far away from them as possible, looking around the eatery.

For a moment he was sure she had seen him, and he went back to studying his milk. Feeling a little shaky, he took a gulp.

A prod made his hand jerk, spilling enough of the stuff down himself to make the white shirt turn blue. He looked up and almost spilled the rest.

The Theelin was looking down at him with concern. "Oh, sorry kid. I didn't mean to make you spill your drink."

He tried to speak but ended up gurgling. The woman gave him a hearty slap on that back, evidently thinking he'd swallowed the wrong way.

Eventually- after his choking had died down to a few sparse coughs- she sat herself down beside him and pushed over another drink. Unlike the milk, this was golden coloured and gave off a pleasant woody smell.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because she added as she slid it over "I wanted to apologise for earlier. Some of the good stuff seemed to fit the bill." She smiled, showing very white teeth.

Tor was instantly wary. Reuma had been very specific on what to do in places like this. Most of it had centred on alcohol.

It was summed up in three words – Don't. Drink. Any.

On the other hand she had also advised them to be polite. A definite dilemma.

The Theelin noticed his hesitance. "It isn't poison, sweetie," she laughed. "One won't do you any harm."

Figuring that if he could disobey orders once he could do it twice, he took a sip. It tasted...nice.

She smiled again, and he felt the same uncomfortable feeling he had before in the starport, as if he'd swallowed a family of wind-snakes. He covered his disquiet with another sip.

She shifted closer to him, still smiling in a way that was vaguely worrying. "I thought after our encounter that you seemed a nice boy. I expect you didn't mean to rude."

He shook his head and replied, "No ma'am."

"Where do you hail from then? I should maybe visit a place that turns out fine young men like you."

He thought quickly, trying to remember their fabricated story. "Um, we farmed outside Hanna City on Chandrila. My brother Dorn used to be in the Civil Fleet. We're visiting family on Arkania."

"A farmboy, eh?" She laughed. "No wonder you looked so awkward when we met you. How old are you?"

"Er..." he tried to calculate his biological age. "Eighteen, ma'am."

"First time away from home?"

He thought of Kamino. It was probably home. "Yes ma'am."

She squeezed his hand, and the wind-snakes squirmed. "Me too, hun. Although mine isn't quite as nice as Chandrila, it's still a little scary. I'll bet you feel worried sometimes."

"Yes ma'am," he said truthfully. "It's so big."

"What is?"

"The galaxy. It's big and strange and I don't understand it at all." He wondered why his tongue was starting to run away with him, and endeavoured to stop it by sipping more of the golden liquid. A pleasant glow enfolded him.

The Theelin seemed touched by his openness. "It is a bit big, when you think about it, mister...?"

"Tor ma'am," he said.

"Call me Tilaté, hun."

"Yes ma'am... Tilaté." He racked his brains for something normal to do, incidentally shifting and feeling something in his pocket. He pulled out the slightly squashed packet and opened it.

Tilatés' nose wrinkled. "What's that smell?"

"Um, these." He proffered the bag of mints. "Do you want one?"

She took one, choking almost as soon as it went in her mouth. "How do you _smell_ anything after eating these?"

"Um, you can't ma'am. I think that might be the point."

She chuckled and caressed his arm. For some reason he couldn't understand he started to blush. For yet _another_ reason he couldn't understand, he suddenly didn't want Tilaté to go away.

"It's funny," she reflected, "But you seemed very innocent at the starport. I'd expect a farmer to have been told about the facts of life."

"Huh?" What was she talking about? "I know some facts about life ma'am."

"Really?" She smiled coquettishly. "Such as?"

He thought it over. "I think the biggest fact is that everyone dies, ma'am. No matter what happens, they always end up dead."

She pulled back sharply, her eyes wide. Afraid he had offended her again; he turned but saw that her eyes were filled with tears.

"Yes," she murmured forlornly, "that is a big fact, isn't it?"

Unconsciously he reached out to comfort her. "Sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to make you sad."

For some reason he never understood- not even later, when he replayed the scene in his head- Tilaté managed to transfer herself from the end of his arm to much, much closer. Close enough, in fact, to press her lips against his.

Tor very nearly panicked and pushed her away, but the Whyren's Reserve had worked its magic on his reactions, and after the first few moments he realised it didn't feel so bad. Even if the wind-snakes from before had mutated intoIthorian dragons.

A cough sounded behind him, making him jump. The face of Climber appeared around Tilatés' shoulder.

"I think," he said dryly, "that we had better go back to our quarters... brother."

Flushing to the roots of his hair, he got up. "Um, sorry, um, bye. Bye ma'am."

She gave him the smile that he was coming to like. "Bye sweetie. I hope you discover some more facts of life."

XXXXXXXX

Kut-rate Kruises was not noted for its quality of ship, but it was inexpensive and it got there in the end, which was all Aine and his group were looking for. They had gathered in the biggest cabin of the _Percehron_ (Yalas'- it was amazing what a Wookie could get when they looked harassed) for lunch, as provided by Zip.

Aine held up a cup of Fizzy-Bip. "Zip, what is it? I realise I might regret asking that."

His brother shrugged. "You said to get something cheap."

Yala growled as Aine replied, "_Cheap_, not _crap_. I mean look..."

He held up a crispy... ball. Definitely a ball, although further identification would have required a forensic specialist.

"... What do you think this is?"

Zip studied it intently. "Sweetroot?"

Yala made an educated guess that it might be a meat dumpling.

Ras gave his professional opinion. "Too crumbly."

Eventually they ate it anyway. It wasn't as though there was anything else.

"When do we arrive?" asked Zip through a mouthful of Yot beans.

"Days yet," Aine told him.

Zip sighed. "It's pretty boring without the others isn't it?"

Yala moaned an agreement. Ras nodded. Aine didn't say anything.

"I mean, by now sarge would've got drunk and hit someone, Crash woulda killed one of the security guards, Zirl woulda covered my clothes in Wookie hair..."

Yala snarled irritably. Her meaning was clear.

"Hey, I don't shed. Not a lot anyway. And_ definitely_ not _that _much."

"Zip?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"All I'm doing is-"

"What did I say?"

The clone gave Aine a disgruntled look. "I think I'll go for a walk." His brother stood up as soon as he did, evidently not willing to let Zip out of his sight. Yala curled up for a snooze as they walked through the door, while Ras went back to practising his knife throws on the rather ragged looking poster of the Emperor.

"Best buy we've ever made," said Aine in undertone.

The corridor outside was quiet, most of the other passengers being in the arcades or restaurants. He decided to head for the souvenir shops, thinking of getting presents for the others.

Most of the stalls and shops held eye-candy and useless gadgets, their only saving grace being in their price. Zip was debating whether he would survive Reumas' wrath over a pink stuffed Bantha doll, when he saw the man in the next stall.

It was the same blond man that had been talking to Lanu Pasiq.

Ducking under a display of jingling bag-tags, he followed than mans' path to the stall opposite them. A little worried, he turned to Aine, who was testing a clockwork Worrt.

"You know, I think that one over there looks better..." Not waiting for a reply he grabbed his brothers' arm and dragged him over to cheap jewellery stall. Sidestepping behind a case of bracelets, he watched his subject.

Quite casually, as if following the crowd, the man wandered over to the stall next to them.

Aine was in the middle of buying a silver broach set with pearls when Zip grabbed his arm again.

"Look, I've seen something even better!"

Hastily stuffing money into the startled cashiers hand the commando followed his brother to a clothes stall. Drawing his brother aside behind a scarf display, he said quietly, "Zip, what in fucks name are you doing?"

"It's that man over there," Zip hissed, trying to look interested in the scarves. "He's following us!"

"Oh for..." Aine sounded exasperated. "Is this somehow connected with that woman at the starport?"

"He is I swear! Look, he's doing it again!"

The man, either oblivious or uncaring, went over to the vacated jewellery stall. Zip ducked back behind the scarves.

"He's done that three times now!"

Aine looked as if he didn't know whether to be annoyed or troubled. "Are you sure?"

"I swear he is! Look, I'll show you!"

He led Aine back to the gadget stall. They made a show of being interested in the range of household appliances.

The man sauntered over to the stall opposite again. Aine started to seem concerned.

"I don't believe it," he muttered. "You're right!"

Zip thought he sounded insultingly surprised, but there wasn't the time to object. "What do we do?"

Aine hesitated. "We carry on shopping," he decided eventually. "Then we lose him on the way to the cabins. We can't risk killing him here."

Zip agreed reluctantly. "What if he follows us off the ship?"

"That," said Aine grimly, "is a different story."

XXXXXXXX

Onboard the _Swift n' Sure_, night –or what passed for it in space- was setting in.

It was two days into a four day journey, most of which had been spent eating, sleeping, arguing, or playing sabaac. Torve had won most of Veila's spending money off him, until Reuma had told him somewhat sharply to give it back. Rakiss had played 'Dragons and Hunters' with the two younglings until Tryst had almost thrown up with excitement, putting a hasty stop to the festivities.

TC-16 took no part in it. Reuma had deactivated him as soon as they had got on board, much to the relief of those present. The droid had started to develop a melancholy personality, one which did nothing towards their good humour.

Now they were telling stories. Under Reumas' watchful glare, all of them were being very careful about the language they used, even though both Cassa and Tryst were half-asleep on Crashs' lap.

Torve was in the middle of a grossly exaggerated tail of his exploits in the Outer Rim when Crash picked up the two toddlers and told them he was going to put them to bed. Reuma and Torve moved up to the cockpit for privacy, Rakiss and Veila deciding they should bunk down as well.

Torve looked unusually soft-eyed as he sat down in the pilots' chair. "Are they all like that?"

"Hey, they're clones aren't they?" said Reuma with a poor attempt at humour. "They're _supposed_ to be the same."

"He's a good boy, for a soldier."

She nodded. "I'll tell you this now, where no-one else can hear- those lads are the only decent thing I've ever done in my life, and that's a fact. I'm proud they let me call them brother."

"You've done good things," Torve objected.

"Name one."

"Er..."

"Exactly."

"You must have done _something_."

"Yeah? Torve, I've been a merc, a smuggler and a training sergeant, I've flown around this galaxy so many times I could write you a map, and in _all that time_ I've never met a better bunch of kids than them. I've met _Jedi_ who could take tips from them." _One in particular_, she added silently.

"They could sure do with tips on_ surviving_, eh?"

"Well, they never had to train like this lot. You know what they had to do when I first got there? _Live-fire exercises_. I mean _shit_, they were what? Six? They spent all their lives training for war, and then they got booted out into a galaxy they knew sod-all about, bar what I told them o' course, bossed around by a bunch of _aruetiise_ who just happened to have killed their template, called cannon fodder and wet droids _by their own side_... then they get a chance of freedom, just one chance and they _still_ fight. For those _di'kuts_ on Coruscant. Could you do that? I know I couldn't."

Torve looked a little pale at the outburst. "Stars, I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't you who placed the order, or killed Jango."

"No, it was the Jedi. Tough luck on that."

She was silent a minute. "You know... if it hadn't been for those lads, I'd have joined up with the CIS like a shot. They were right about the Republic. It was a heap of shit come the finish, and its leader was worse."

"Well, Palpatines' destroyed it now. Happy?"

"Not really," she said, "The bastard's still in charge."

Beat. "You know that little girl Cassa?"

"Yeah?"

"You found a home for her yet?"

Silence. He took that as a 'no'.

"Only I know someone..."

She spun so fast her head thumped the back of the chair. "Who?"

"An old associate called Reike Th'san. He's all settled down now on in Mos Espa, wife called Elsa. He'd adopt her if you wanted."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can tell, huh?"

"Sure can. He's a good man, that one, and he's been looking to adopt for a while now. Poor Elsa, she won't be having kids anytime soon."

A pause. "I'll think about it."

"I'm sure you will, girl," he said. "I'm sure."


	7. Hazard

**I apologise in advance for the ending of this chapter. I was never very good at romantic stuff..**

**Dedicated to Jedi Knight 13 and ****scottishace**, **the only reviewers so far.**

**

* * *

****6: Hazard**

Tor was completely lost.

It had been three days since the occurrence in the eatery. Climber had been less than impressed with what he had found Tor up to, making this abundantly clear as he hauled them both back to their cabins. Since then he had kept a very close eye on his fellow clone.

The only exceptions were for refresher breaks. Neither cabin had its own, so they were forced to use the public ones two corridors down, and one across.

But this time there had been a crowd of Kubaz tourists, one of the turbolifts had been broken and a pair of elderly Codru-Ji had dragooned him into helping them to their apartment, and then... well, what with one thing and another he was now wandering the sublevels of the ship, thoroughly and hopelessly lost. And he _still_ hadn't found a 'fresher.

His situation only worsened when, to his amazement, he walked around a corner straight into Tilaté and her partner, along with the dapper merchant character. He barked something harsh as Tor ran into him.

Tilaté was shocked, but didn't look all that upset, giving him a friendly greeting. Her Twi'lek friend sniffed.

Tort turned red from embarrassment. "Sorry sir. And ma'am. I mean ma'ams."

The Twi'lek attempted to steer her male companion around him, but the man stopped her. His clothes were, as far as Tor could tell, made from fine material with swirls of gold braid around the hem and sleeves. He wore a jovial smile that glittered like the jewels on his capes' throat, but his eyes were cold. For a moment he seemed to study Tors' face closely.

"No harm done, young man," he boomed. "Now if you don't mind..."

Tor took the hint and stepped aside. The man and his partner passed without any further words, but Tilaté hesitated.

As soon as the other two were around the corner, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

Tor considered his answer.

"Getting lost," he said candidly.

Her lips twitched. "What did you want to find?"

"Just the 'fresher, ma'am. And my room."

She actually laughed. "Well, there's a 'fresher just around the corner. What's your room number?"

He debated over giving it to her, but figured eventually that if he didn't, he'd never have to keep it a secret again. "Room 433."

"Snazzy. There's a turbolift to the right, your room should be somewhere on the second level."

"Thank you ma'am." He wavered before leaving. "Bye ma'am."

"For now," she purred.

XXXXXXXX

Aines' team was two days away from Commenor. This meant two more days of hiding in their cabins and sending Yala out for their meals. At night.

It wasn't commando-style behaviour at all, and it took its toll. Zip was under a permanent command of silence after three days of jokes and pranks, Ras was sorting out his med supplies, Aine had withdrawn into his own private space and Yala... was Yala, and just as aloof and irascible as ever. Cabin fever had all three in its clutches.

Nor was cabin fever Aines' only problem. His long-range receiver had beeped the day before, with a recorded message from Reuma. It reported a safe arrival on Corellia, and dealings with a group of traders that sounded promising. Climber and Tor hadn't reported anything untoward. The only problem was, apparently, was them.

The thought of being the only squad stupid enough to be recognised was gnawing away at his mind, along with several other unpleasant scenarios. Aine was an unusually introspective clone, so while Zip and Ras practised throwing knives at the poster of the Emperor and Yala carved a length of Wroshyr wood, he sat in the corner and worried.

The simplest solution, as ever, would be to kill the spy. Aine had- concealed in various pockets and belt-straps- over ten different devices for killing with ranging from garrottes to fear sticks, as well as a couple of disassembled DXR6 Carbines stowed in bits around their luggage (Reuma had flatly refused to let them disassemble her Verps and Zip had hidden his WESTAR before Aine could find it). Unfortunately they were stuck on a ship, and dead bodies tended to cause comment even on Kut-Rate Kruise liners. The problem was the Imperial probably knew that as well.

Nothing was stopping the agent from contacting the local troops on Sullust and arresting them all upon arrival. This was also starting to prey on Aines' mind.

For the life of him, he couldn't think of any way out of this.

He knew he had better start thinking fast.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma had told Aine about the traders. She had neglected mention what sort.

Ryn were widely considered to be shiftless, lazy, double-crossing vagabonds with little to no morals. Reuma was bright enough to realise, however, that if there was a category for shiftless, criminal vagabonds she would have been placed in it from adolescence and that in reality there were worse people to know than gypsies.

The Ryn, perhaps out of sheer astonishment, had become fast friends. Much of Reumas' early smuggling had been conducted either with their help or on their behalf. It was down to this complex world of favours and debts that she was sitting in the _Dirty Dug_ cantina in Coronet, dressed in her gaudy best and watching a white-haired Ryn female deal out a pack of sabaac cards.

Clarani studied the face of the cards carefully. Reuma fidgeted.

"Hmmm, Star, Endurance, Balance, Hazard, hmmmm..."

Reuma stifled a sigh. She had never had much faith in Ryn divination. How clever could cardboard be?

The female paused auspiciously.

"The Evil One," she murmured quietly.

There was a flurry of hurried whispers. Crash, the only other non-Ryn present, shifted tensely.

Clarani looked up at the crossbreed seated before her. "Look's like you're in a bit of trouble, girl."

"Looks like," Reuma said neutrally.

"Could be doing with a real good ship then."

"Could be."

The Ryn produced a series of amused whistles through her nose. "Not an ordinary ship, oh no. You lost a good ship, so you must get one as good back."

"It was a prototype. One of a kind."

She whistled again. "Hey girl, there are lots of prototypes out there. Some are even as good as your old metal pile."

"Know any?"

"Maybe." The Ryn leaned back. "There's an old warehouse a few blocks over. Got a nice new YT-series ship, good cargo space, damn fine engines. The guards change shift at midnight."

"I understand." She didn't blink. "How much is that information worth? I've got this protocol droid, practically new..."

TC-16 moaned, but a disproving mutter swept the room. The female Ryn scowled as only a Ryn can. "For you? Not a credit! This is debt we pay off, yes? Have you forgotten those of us you rescued from Nal Hutta? Or from the dens of Nar Shadda?"

"You paid me." Reuma hadn't moved a muscle.

"A pittance, child! Far less than what we owe, we knew that then and now!" Clarani leaned forward. "When the guards change there is a space of five minutes when they are all outside. The alarms are set on the main grid network, and they are all tied together. Shoot one and all fail."

She rose and bowed. Reuma followed suit. "Be careful, girl. There are dark times ahead, times when you'll wish you'd never have taken this venture- never risked the jaws of fate. One day you will face a crossroad."

She whipped out the cards and laid them flat. A horned face and a flared symbol reflected the light.

"The Evil One and Star," Clarani hissed through her beak-like snout. "One day you have to decide- between facing him or leaving for the stars. But constantly fate will add a twist..."

She set down the third card. Hazard stared up at them.

"... remember there is always a choice."

Reuma didn't say a word. Crash saw a muscle bunch in her jaw.

"Thank you," she said softly.

And they left.

XXXXXXXX

Tor was cleaning the bits of his DT-57 pistol when there was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Climber, who had gone to get dinner, he opened it at once.

It was Tilaté.

In the few seconds Tor spent gaping at her she had ducked under his arm and entered the room. He closed the door behind her hastily.

"Wha-?"

She looked around, ignoring him. "You keep it tidy in here. I'm impressed."

"Wha-?"

She spotted the bits of the pistol. "Expecting trouble?"

"Wha- um. Yes."

She shrugged, finally turning to face him. "You and the rest of the galaxy."

Tor got a grip on himself. "What are doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." She sat down on the bunk, creasing the sheets. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Er." He didn't, but he didn't like the idea of Climber finding them together either. "No."

She smiled, and the wind-snakes paid his stomach another visit. He sat down beside her, having nowhere else to sit.

"You're a strange one, kid," she said. He noticed a smelt fragrance around her that he hadn't noticed before. It reminded him of a starblossom one of the techies had had on the _Executrix_.

"Probably ma'am," he admitted.

She looked closely at him. "You know, I could have sworn your eyes were green."

Tor choked. He had taken out his iris enhancers when he had come in.

She stared for a few more minutes, before shrugging smiling. "My mistake. I like this colour better anyway."

For some reason he felt pleased. "Thank you ma'am. Your eyes are nice as well."

She tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes a bit. "Really?"

He nodded, wondering how to explain as he studied them. At first they just looked ruby-coloured, but if you looked deeper there were shots amethyst and topaz and gold as well. He felt as if he could stare at them forever.

"Yes ma'am," he said finally, "they're pretty."

She laughed. He felt a golden glow again, like the Whyrens Reserve had been, only without drinking anything. "And you always tell the truth, don't you? That's what I like about you, kid. You're honest."

He swallowed. "I like you too, ma'am."

"Oh?" she enquired. "Why?"

He hesitated as he thought what to say. "When I'm around you, I feel good. Like happy but more than happy. I don't know how to describe it."

She smiled, but there was a sad twist to it. "They don't teach you about love on Chandrila I take it?"

Love? He thought a minute. He'd heard of it, but it was utterly alien, mostly what he'd picked up from listening to the crewmen and officers of the _Executrix_. They'd made it sound like some sort of sickness. He hadn't thought a clone could catch it.

"I don't know ma'am," he said, "I've never been in love before."

"It's when you miss someone when they're gone," she said softly. "It's when you are happy to see them again, and just after they leave you can think of nothing else." She reached up and touched his jaw, making the wind-snakes wriggle. "It's when your heart skips a beat when they look at you."

Tor felt frightened, mostly because this was what _he_ had been feeling. "It's a disease?"

She almost fell off the bed laughing. "No, of course not. It's wonderful, being in love."

"It doesn't sound very nice, ma'am. Have you ever caught it?"

He didn't understand why she started the laugh again. "Well, once. Shall I tell you when?"

He nodded. She started. "Well, it was in a big room full of people. My friend Koyi'passik had spotted a young man who looked a little lonely. We went over, he turned around and my heart just stopped right there."

"Did it hurt?"

"Well, it did a bit but then he started speaking and my heart just started up again and quit hurting. He was a nice young man, as I recall."

Tor actually felt jealous. "Where is he now?"

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, hun, he got on his shuttle, which just happened to be ours as well. And then we met again in the transports' canteen..."

Tors' brain finally clicked. "Bu-"

She hushed him. "And I brought him a drink and we kissed and I wanted to tell him I'd never felt that way about anyone before, only his brother came along and spoiled the moment somewhat." A wicked grin. "So I started making plans to see him again."

He gulped. "Bu... but..."

She pressed a finger to his lips. "It was pure good fortune I bumped into him in a corridor one day. And even more so that he gave me his room address..."

Tor felt his ears growing hot. The wind-snakes were trying to get his attention, but his head was filled with a roaring sound. Now becoming frightened, he stood up and headed for the door.

Tilaté grabbed his arm. "Tor, wait..."

He spun, and somehow, someway, he ended up facing her, then kissing her. He hadn't meant to, but as soon as it started he knew he never wanted it to stop, and then she was reaching up and undoing his shirt...

A few minutes later Climber came back with a tray of food and knocked on the door. Hearing no reply, he put down the tray quietly and departed to his own cabin, figuring his brother was asleep and deciding to catch forty winks of his own.

The food steamed gently in the air, until it turned cold.


	8. Found out

**7: Found out**

The _Percehron _touched down with the dawn.

Those first off the ship encountered an unusual number of Stormtroopers, a fact that was commented on but not unduly worried about by the travellers. After all, they weren't about to be arrested, were they? The innocent had nothing to fear from the police. No doubt it was simply a routine check or raid involving others they neither knew nor cared about.

One squad swept back into the mid-level passenger cabins. As they rounded the corner they saw a Wookie.

This was followed by a tap on the shoulder, a kick in the back of the knees and a jab into the throat by what looked like a writing stylus. They slumped to the floor and were dragged out of sight.

Ten minutes later three Stormtroopers walked down the corridor, escorting a remarkably calm-looking Wookie between them.

XXXXXXXX

It was midnight in Coronet City. All this meant was that the lights got dimmer and the crowds got rowdier.

Reuma stood concealed in a murky alleyway, lights and shadow dappling her armour from blood-red to grey. She touched the com button on her helmet

"Shadows, this is Shadow Leader. I'm good to go."

The reply was perfectly clear. "Copy that Shadow Leader. Stage One in commencement."

A pause. "You know, this is about the time Zip would butt in and say something stupid."

"Reminisce in your own time, _vod'ika_. We have a ship to steal."

"Yes sarge."

A bang and angry shouts came from the front of the building. CorSec guards had been watching over the main doorway, from the yells this was no longer the case.

"Leader going in."

She breezed up over to the rooftops, whipping out of sight under the edge of the roof, huddling down into the shadows. Checking through HUD that no-one was watching, she crept across the roof to the back of the building. Attaching her grappling hook to a ledge, she clipped the handle to her belt and swung into space.

Ground and sky spun dizzily for a moment, as she swung back and forth. Grabbing an old-fashioned window to steady her, she took out her fusion cutter and set the beam to 'thin'. Carefully, she bore a pencil-sized hole near the latch, melting the components and causing the window to swing on its hinges out beside her. Noticing a security cam, she hastily switched it off with a quick blaster bolt.

Clenching the fusion cutter in her teeth, she stood on the ledge and peered cautiously inside. Sure enough there was KPR droid skittering around inside, coming to investigate the open window.

If that thing sounded an alarm, half the city's police force would come running within the minute. Luckily she knew how to deal with it. Using the Force, she carefully directed its line of movement away slightly from her window. Then, drawing her knife, she hurled it.

There was crunch. The droid wasn't going anywhere.

Reuma looked around. The echoing space suggested an attic or upper level of sorts. She touched the link again.

"Crash, patch me in the building plans."

A strained voice. "Bit busy sarge."

"Negative then. Stay alive."

"Copy sarge. Doing our best."

"Needs to work on his sarcasm," she muttered as she switched off the link. Groping in the dim light, she made her way to the stairs. One flailing hand hit the light control.

The hanger lit up, revealing its prize. A pristine-condition starship, the design a variant on the successful YT-1300 series but placing the cockpit along the centreline of the ship, and added two wedge-shaped cargo areas at the rear to double the cargo capacity of its predecessor. Cargo capacity that could very well support sentients.

Blazing skies, it was _almost_ as good as her _Blood Star_.

A burst of static. "Sarge, a little help?"

"Patience, laddie. Head for the main doors, but keep on either side."

"Copied."

Reuma ran for the boarding ramp. She didn't have access codes, but that wasn't really a problem. Soldiers learned to improvise.

She drew out her laser cutter again.

Static. "Sarge, we're starting to have a problem here. There're more of them."

"No worries," she muttered. The ramp slid down.

A scream, a howl, and a tense voice. "Zirl's been hit. Minor injury."

"Get under cover, I'm coming out. Prepare for stage two."

"Copied."

She powered up the controls. The ship roared into life, engine-lights illuminating the hanger even more than the flickering strips on the roof. The stink of fuel filled the confined space.

"Get down!"

She simultaneously fired the weapons and thrust the flight controls forward. The ship shot towards the door, just as it exploded into fragments.

Reuma whooped with glee as she shot forward. A dry voice came over the com–

"Forgetting something sarge?"

"Would I do that?" She did a handbrake turn, twisting the ship ninety degrees to face the buildings on the left. Before her was a duracrete plaza, filled with green-uniformed CorSec and white-armoured Stormtroopers.

She hadn't, as yet, drawn up the ramp.

"Go, go, go!"

She laid out cover fire as booted, metal, furred and scaled feet pounded up to the freight loading room. She started to lift, encouraged by Crashs' yells and the terrified screams of the younglings. She felt a little guilty about putting them in so much danger, but she hadn't had much choice. Certainly after this she wouldn't be welcome back on Corellia for a few years. Or decades.

"We're all on!"

"Copied. All good?"

"One hundred percent. Zirl just got his fur scorched."

"The droid?"

"Intact." A tinny moan came over the com. "Unfortunately."

"Alright, hold on to your buckets and don't cack your pants! Clear sky's ahead!"

"Not in front of the children sarge."

"Shut up."

The YT-1930 lifted from fire to darkness.

XXXXXXXX

It was morning, although on the _Cwik Carrier_ this was not immediately apparent. Novania, capital of the dusty orange world, was just feeling the first blush of pink that heralded the new day, as the transport drifted planetside.

Tor found himself being shaken awake. He opened his eyes.

He closed his eyes.

He heard Tilaté laugh. "Why the sudden surge of modesty?"

He gulped, keeping his eyes shut. "Can you put some clothes on please?"

"As soon as _you_ do." Her voice was impish.

Groping blindly, he found his shirt. It sparked off some memories. He felt his face grow hot.

Tilaté killed herself laughing. "Interesting night, huh?"

Interesting. Yeah.

Clones as a whole didn't feel embarrassment about affairs of the heart and other vaguely connected organs for the simple fact that they weren't supposed to know. An average clones' life extended for twenty years, half of which would be spent on Kamino, children and their conception didn't figure largely in an existence like that. Tor had been surprised, intrigued, and slightly aghast in that order the night before, but he hadn't been embarrassed. His discomfort stemmed entirely from his feeling of shame that he had jeopardised his mission.

He pulled the shirt on and started to find his pants. How stupid was he! They were supposed to be keeping a low profile! And he'd... he'd... well, he'd not! Climber was going to _kill_ him!

Opening his eyes a crack, he saw Tilaté heading for the door. To his great relief she had put on some clothes.

"I'm going to get us some breakfast." She flashed him a wicked grin. "You could use something to replenish your energy."

Tor was surprised his ears hadn't set his hair on fire by the way they were burning. He heard her step outside, a clatter and a curse as she found the stone-cold dinner from the night before, before receding footsteps.

Hardly had those faded than another set started up. This set had a heavier tread, crisper and more military.

Climber opened the door and saw Tor still sitting on the edge of his bed.

"C'mon bro!" he said disbelievingly. "We've almost landed! Start packing!"

"Yessir." Tor cast around for his clothes and bits of DT-57. After extracting his boots from under the bed, his coat from its hook and his kitbag from behind the door, he stood up.

A pattering sound registered in his mind as light footsteps, running fast. Tilaté burst through the door, hardly seeming to register Climber, who stared at her in astonishment.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" she demanded.

Climber coughed and she looked at him. "Why?"

"Because there's a patrol of security guards heading this way, and all of them have blasters." She looked unnerved. "Quoi Sitiylkar was leading them."

"Who?" they chorused.

"The merchant Koyi took up with," she snapped. "He works for the Black Sun on the side, I'll bet anything he's sold them some information."

Climber and Tor exchanged panic-stricken looks. Reuma had told them about the Black Sun.

She saw the glances. "It_ is_ you, isn't it? _Why?_"

"No time," said Climber abruptly, "Tor, get that DT fixed up. Ma'am, I suggest you leave."

She didn't move. "I can get you out."

"They'll have blocked off all the exits."

"They don't know you know. If you get to the turbolift then you can escape when the others disembark."

"We can do that ourselves."

"I can show you a quick route." She gave Tor a desperate look, as if willing him to persuade his sergeant. "Just past my cabin there's a crewmen's area. It leads down to the turbolift. They won't expect you to know that."

Climber was unmoved. "How can we trust you?"

The answer came, but not from Tilaté. "We can," Tor said tentatively. "We really can, sir."

He looked at them both, and Tor felt he saw more than he let on. Finally he nodded.

"Lead on."

They started to run.

XXXXXXXX

5th Fleet Security was used to provide security on many starships and landing platforms, now transferred to Sullust in order to keep an eye on the natives. A trio of Stormtroopers designated CT-23/5678786, CT-25/567997 and CT-24/567987 by their armour, were escorting a Wookie in binders towards the command centre in Kliffen.

Over the private trooper channel, CT-23/5678786 spoke thusly-

"It seems to me we spend a lot of time in disguise."

Of course, just because they are in the armour doesn't make them the rightful owners.

"Shut up Zip."

"And this armour is_ shabla_ useless."

"Shut up."

"I can't see anything. Whose bright idea was it to have eyeholes? Huh? What _di'kut _decided men could see out of these _shabla_ eyeholes?"

"I'm going to smack you one in a minute of you don't shut up."

"I thought you just smacked me regardless."

"I'll smack you harder then."

"Yessir."

"_Sergeant._"

"Whatever. Hey, you think sarge'll let us have a vacation after this?"

"Guess."

"Aw shit."

"Shut up. Keep the line clear."

They reached the base, situated outside the docking bay and filled with hurrying Stormtroopers. Aine, his instincts prodding him, looked up and swore.

"What was that sarge?"

"Take a look at the guy in the middle."

Ras and Zip looked. Blond hair glinted in the sunlight, filtered through layers of smog.

"Uh oh."

Aine tried to breathe and squash the bad feelings he was starting to get. "_Udessi, udessi_. Just act normal."

"How does a grunt act, sarge?"

"Ok fine, just try not to act like yourself."

"Copy that sarge."

The civilian company commander marched over to them. "What is_ that_?"

Aine saluted. "Prisoner matches the description we were given. We're taking it to the cells, sir."

The man waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Remember to record all the details and prisoner number."

"Yessir –" Aine noticed the blond-haired man walking over and stopped.

"_Sarge, he's–_"

"_I see him bro. Stay sharp._"

The man approached them, staring at the two commandos all the while. Aine experienced a sinking feeling as he noticed a squad detaching themselves and following him.

He stopped beside the commander, looking them up and down. The Stormtroopers spread out in a semi-circle behind him. "What is your designation?"

The commander tried to protest. "Lord Halmere, this is completely out of –"

The other cut him off. "Commander, you are well aware who I answer to. If you have any objections, please inform_ him_."

The man gulped, turning pale. Aine's sinking feeling doubled as Halmere turned back to him. "Your designation?"

He snapped to attention. "CT-24/567987 _sir_!"

"I see." His eyes narrowed. "Take off your helmet."

Aine froze. Was it possible he could... but no, they had washed out the hair and iris dye before donning the armour. He was a clone, dammit. He couldn't tell them all apart. It was _impossible_. They'd _counted_ on that for fucks sake!

He saluted again and broke free the clasps at the neck, holding the man's eye as he took it off. The other stared at his face coolly. Zip was scuffing his feet, a sign Aine knew from long acquaintance meant he was nervous. Ras, in contrast, was keeping very still.

Halmere nodded slowly. "Now your gloves."

"My lord –" the commander broke off as the other turned to stare at him. "Sorry my lord."

Aine took off his left glove slowly, but without hesitation. He clenched his bare hand over the right.

Halmere held his gaze.

He took off his right glove. Bare metal glinted in the sunshine.

Halmere looked down at the prosthetic, then back up at Aine's icy stare. He held up his hand, and the Stormtroopers raised their weapons.

Each one was pointing at Aine's head.

"Order your men to take off their helmets," he said quietly.

Aine complied. "Buckets off, troopers."

They obeyed unwillingly, while Yala growled. Ras carefully put the helmet on the ground. Halmere acknowledged him with a nod.

"You are under arrest," he said evenly. "Under the Capital Powers Act, Preface, Section 2, point six. You will be taken to the cells and imprisoned under Senate Act three-two-one, point seven. This means you have no right to trial, defence or the choosing of your own council in such court of law as the Empire may see fit to provide you with."

With one swift movement, Aine drew his hidden DC-17 blaster pistol and aimed it at the man's face. The Stormtroopers acted a second too late.

"Order them to stand down," he said softly.

Halmere did nothing. "Reconsider."

"No." It was said with a note of finality.

A metre-long sheet of red plasma arched in front of his face, slicing through durasteel, through power cell and through gas as Halmere stepped back almost lazily. Aine yelped involuntarily and pulled back, minus most of his blaster.

The other – face thrown into bloody radiance by the crimson light – said nothing except, "Stand down. Or would you rather lose your hand? _Again_?"

The commando ground his teeth, something he had picked up from Reuma. He said nothing, but stepped backward and let his arms fall to his side.

The lightsaber disappeared back into the man's belt. "What are your designations? We have already identified the Wookie."

_Yeah... because non-clones are always so much easier to identify, right? _Aine though bitterly. "Aine Taruni."

"Zip Taruni," Zip chimed in.

Ras hesitated. "Ras Taruni," he said finally.

The blond man sneered. "I was referring to your _designations_, not your nicknames."

"Those _are_ our designations, scumsucker," Zip told him.

"Very well." He gestured for the Stormtroopers to come forward. "Take them to the reinforced cells."

"Have you noticed," said Zip as they were cuffed, "that we spend a lot of time _being discovered_ while in disguise?"

Aine almost smiled. Good old Zip. "You'd think sarge would get the hint."

"Let's hope she gets the chance."

XXXXXXXX

The YT-1930 newly christened _Nebula_ was a third of it's down the Corellian Run, its occupants were rowdy with success. Even Cassa and Tryst picked up the mood, shrieking wildly and running around the ship, pursued by Crash and an inefficient TC-16.

Reuma Seritole Taruni threw back her head and laughed as he sprinted past her in hot pursuit. "Good thing the seppies didn't use toddlers!"

He lunged and missed as they scooted round a corner. "Little _di'kuts_... ow!"

"What did I say about swearing?"

Veila materialised from the galley, holding both children firmly under each arm. "Want them put to bed?"

"Please," said Reuma, adding maliciously, "Crash could do with the rest."

Rakiss sissed with laughter. Crash grabbed him instead.

"Time for _you_ to go to bed as well, lizard!"

He struggled out, no longer laughing. "No fair!"

Crash held him firmly by leg and arm. "Aren't you lucky, it's even got a lock on the door..."

"Nooooo!"

Reuma fell about helplessly.

Crash dragged the unwilling reptile away, making the _Nebula _acquire a new set of claw marks in the floor and sending TC into a fuss. Veila hustled after him, still holding the younglings.

Reuma stared after them, shaking her head as she made another move on the dejarik board. "Mad."

Zirl howled an agreement.

"I wonder how the others are doing."

He grumbled something. TC translated. "Master Zirlachuk assures you that they are most likely keeping out of trouble."

"Yeah," she said, sounding unconvinced, "probably."

XXXXXXXX

"I wonder how sarge is doing."

Climber looked around at his brother sardonically. They had made it to the crew area without fuss, and were currently standing in a turbolift feeling like idiots. But well armed idiots.

"Probably been discovered, shot at, rescued, and chased halfway across the Empire by now," he said dryly.

Tor thought about it. "All that?"

"Bound to be," Climber replied with a straight face.

"Wow."

Tilaté gave the commando a disgusted look. "That is not funny."

"Isn't it ma'am? Sorry ma'am."

"Neither was that."

Tor looked baffled. "What?"

"Never mind," she sighed.

The lift jolted to halt, the door opened. Both clones ducked out and swept the area with their blasters.

"Clear," barked Climber. They started to run, nerves stretched taunt. Tilaté tried to keep up.

"The exit's on the left..."

Climber swept into the new passage and saw who was in it. He fired out of instinct.

Tilaté and the person screamed. Tor yelled.

"_Check! Check_!"

Climbers' hand jerked spasmodically, his trigger finger jammed in the guard. He spun around, furious.

"You _di'kut_! You know better than that!"

Tor winced and flushed. "Sorry sir," he mumbled.

"_Never_ do that again!"

"No sir."

The person- now recovering from their shock- watched with an expression halfway between curiosity and cynical amusement. In contrast to Tilatés' scant but practical clothes, she was dressed in an elegant gown. Her former partner gave her a curt nod.

"Koyi."

The Twi'lek responded composedly. "Tilaté."

She seemed to take no notice of the two blasters trained on her head. "You're leaving with them."

"Yes," the Theelin said evenly.

"You are a fool. He would pay you to stay."

"I'm tired of hunting money, Koyi. And he couldn't pay me enough."

"He's rich."

"He's slime. Whatever the price, it would be too cheap."

The Twi'lek gestured at the two clones. "You know they are criminals? Traitors? You know what the Empire does to traitors."

"The same thing it does to its _officers_?" Her voice was bitter. "No, Koyi, there is no difference. You know that."

The other slitted her eyes, watching Tor thoughtfully. He stirred.

"That's him?" she said.

"Yes."

"If you like clones so much, there are plenty of loyal ones about."

Tilaté showed no obvious surprise, but clones are good at reading the body language of others. Climber noted her shock.

"They aren't him," she replied eventually. He gave her credit for the answer.

Koyi shrugged. "Your choice, girl. I'll miss the parties with you."

Tilaté didn't answer, but went to stand by Tor. Her meaning was clear.

Her former friend shook her head sadly. "You're making a mistake, hun. If you help a traitor, you a_re _a traitor. You will never see your home again."

"I don't mind all that much." There was shouting in the distance, and the clatter of armoured footsteps. "You'd better get out the way."

The Twi'lek acquiesced. "Goodbye, Diva."

"You too." Tilaté followed the clones down to the exit, and freedom.

She never looked back.


	9. Rescue

**8: Rescue**

_Nothing wrong with feeling scared. Hell, if you don't in our work you're just a damn fool. You just gotta remember that your fear doesn't own you. You own it. It's yours, and it can't control you unless you let it._

-_Reuma Seritole Taruni (sgt, GAR) teaching commando group 16._

Aine had been set apart by a higher level of imagination than most of his decanted brothers. It was one of the things the Kaminoans had noted about him, deciding that it made him suitable for leadership. He knew he was lucky they hadn't decided on the_ other _option.

He thought right at that moment that perhaps the Kaminoans had had a point. Imagination was no blessing in this situation.

It was all too easy to imagine, for example, what was about to happen next. Tor had told them about it, about how he had heard screams while he sat in his cell aboard the _Executrix_, about how the Imps used special droids to torture prisoners with, about how they'd break a person down, and down, until there was nothing more and the quivering mass left over was taken out and shot through the back of the head, to be disposed of in the incinerators...

_Stop that_, he told himself, _this isn't helping!_

His treacherous brain threw up images of him bound and screaming, a hovering droid in front of him, pincers extended...

Or transferred him to Coruscant to be tortured there...

Or just being killed, the Imps concentrating on Zip or Ras or Yala...

The door opened, and he looked up sharply, the bad feeling intensifying. The bottom dropped out of his stomach.

It was Halmere, and the Dark Jedi was not alone.

"I think," the other said quietly as his Stormtrooper escort grabbed Aine's arms, "that it is time for an introduction to the Empire, and how it treats traitors."

The droid behind him hummed, slick black surface glistening.

XXXXXXXX

"Veila? We're approaching Tatooine."

Jax stood up. It was time.

Tryst tugged at his hand, emerald eyes boring into him. "Da?"

He squeezed the little fingers protectively. There had been no question which of the children he would take, not really. He loved Cassa, but Tryst had stolen his heart away as soon as he had fallen asleep on Jaxs' lap, that very first day.

Cassa herself was glued to Crashs' side. She had taken a shine to him recently, and to Rakiss. The trio looked almost like a family.

"Da?"

He picked the boy up. "Hey, big guy. We're home."

The youngling wriggled around until his head was resting on Jaxs' chest. He started to suck his thumb.

"N' W'rr's'," he murmured contentedly.

Cassa was squirming in Crashs' arms, kicking at the bag he had packed for her. She was generally the more active of the two, something that had demanded Crashs' full attention during the trip. As the ship juddered downwards she expressed her irritation.

"Put down!" she demanded.

Crash didn't let go. "No chance, _adi'ka_, I've seen you run. You can't get adopted if you aren't here."

Her face screwed up. "D'pt'd?"

"You're going to get a family, adi'ka." His eyes looked a little watery, something he would later blame on a trick of the light. "People who can take care of you."

She tugged at his hair, still cropped short in clone military style. "You!"

"Not me," he said, untangling her fingers soothingly. "Better people."

She sniffled and buried her face in his shoulder, as the _Nebula_ touched down and landed with a jolt. Reuma came into the lounge, looking haggard. She didn't say anything while the ramp extended downwards.

In the docking bay were two other people, one a dark-haired and bearded man, the other a lighter haired woman. Both were weathered by the sun and wearing common Tatooine street clothes.

The man held out his hand. "Reike Th'san."

Reuma shook it. "Captain Taruni. All Cassas' things are in the bag."

His eyes softened as he saw the blond-haired girl. "We will take good care of her. I can't thank you enough for trusting us."

His wife said nothing, but simply extended her arms towards Crash. He dislodged Cassa gently and passed her over.

The Jedi youngling wriggled a bit before settling, gazing up at Elsa's' face without a word. There was a mutual awe in both their eyes.

Reuma coughed a bit, breaking the spell. "You might want to change your names after this, but it's up to you. We'll send anything you need, you just have to ask." She very deliberately didn't look at TC-16 when she said this.

Reike nodded. "Will you visit?"

"I doubt it." Her face grew drawn as she watched the two sets of families, each one holding a youngling. "It would put you in danger."

"I understand. But thank you." He stroked the hair of Cassa, still gazing up at his wife. "Thank you."

Reuma said nothing, but turned abruptly and walked up the ramp with the droid. Rakiss and Crash hesitated.

"Bye kiddo," said Rakiss to Tryst. "Watch out for the dragons."

Tryst made his dragon-face at the Trandoshan. "Grrrrr!"

Crash grasped Cassas' hand softly. "Good luck, _adi'ka_," he said quietly.

She reached up and patted his face with chubby fingers. "Bu'!"

He said nothing, but let his hand drop. Rakiss pulled at it.

"We gotta go _vod_."

Crash started and looked down at the albino. Rakiss shrugged uncomfortably.

"Well, we gotta."

He gripped the scaled fingers and nodded. They went to the ship together.

Cassa watched as the ship lifted into the sky.

"_Buir_," she said sadly.

XXXXXXXX

Climber was happy. Okay, he was being shot at. Okay, he was down to his last tibanna gas canister. Okay, he was outnumbered twenty to one by his old allies in a cut-rate frigate on a dead-beat planet.

_But _he was alive, upright and doing what he did best, which was bring about general mayhem and destruction to those beings foolish enough to try and cause him harm. Exactly what he had been trained for, in other words.

Besides, their situation wasn't that dire. Yes, there were twenty Stormtroopers around the corner and they had no dets, but on the other hand this was the last door they had to fight their way through to freedom, he had a competent partner beside him and the Theelin woman had turned out to be a good shot. It was almost like having a squad again.

The thought spurred him on. _That one's for Trace_, he thought savagely, gunning down an unwary trooper. _That's one's for Ordin,_ as he hit another low on the thigh. _That's for the chase through the woods, that's for the attack on the village, that's for the crap aboard the _Executrix_, that's for forcing me to wear these stupid di'kutla civilian clothes, that's for all the shitty food we got served during the war, that's for..._

"Er, sir? They're all dead."

He blinked sweat out of his eyes, momentarily confused. Then he saw Tor was right.

He cleared his throat. "Get their weapons and go."

"Yessir."

He shivered as Tor and the Theelin – what was her name again? - went to search among the dead for supplies and weapons. It was unsettling how he could go from sparing Stormtrooper lives whenever possible to actively trying the slaughter as many as he could.

It was also unsettling, he realised, how he now thought of them as _Stormtroopers_, not _brothers_.

XXXXXXXX

Aine couldn't stop trembling.

The sessions hadn't lasted long – at least he didn't think it hadn't. After the first few minutes it became hard to tell, the minutes bleeding into each other, smeared with pain until they had become an eternity, until he had forgotten that there had ever been a time before the torment.

The shaking embarrassed him, making him wonder if he hadn't lost his nerve. Clenching his biomech right hand into a fist, he pressed it to his head and closed his eyes.

_Forceps reaching out, tips glowing red, a cold voice _This is how we deal with defectors_, sarge where are you, Zip, Ras, everything splitting apart, don't talk don't talk don't talk, _Use the Bavo Six_, a galaxy of fear opening, shadows closing in, sarge why aren't you here, you promised you'd come, you said, warped shapes, sphere hovering, sarge it _hurts...

They slammed back open. The trembling continued.

He heard voices, and he couldn't stop the fear from coming back. It was too soon, far too soon, were they coming for him, or Zip, or Yala or Ras, oh Force let it be them not him, let it just be them...

The voices though – they were angry, those were shots being fired or he was a Gungun. A rescue attempt? But who by?

He almost felt hopeful. _Sarge?_

He could hear cell doors being opened and slammed shut, heard a Wookies roar – Yala, it had to be Yala – then his own door was open and he stood, ready to face whatever was coming.

At the sight of the being silhouetted against the dim glow his heart almost stopped.

_No... It can't be..._

In the glare of the light, too strong for starved eyes, it looked like Jango Fett.

XXXXXXXX

All was quiet aboard the _Nebula_.

Crash kicked the side of his bunk as he cleaned his Verp. He hadn't realised, before, how truly boring a life ship-bound could be. Without Cassa or Tryst to keep him occupied, what else could he do?

Well, apart from one thing. Rakiss was keeping him busy pretty well, insisting on learning all he knew of melee fighting and shooting, utilising Crashs' knowledge of unarmed combat along with his species strength and attributes, making a style that was truly frightening. Crash was starting to warm to the youngster.

_He might be a lizard_, he thought with dark humour, _but he's our lizard_.

Zirl hadn't been very active since the drop-off on Tatooine. Crash privately suspected he was missing Yala, as the Wookie spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning his bowcaster, looking at his holos, snarling at TC and staring into space. Crash had decided early on it was none of his business.

Reuma wandered down from the cockpit, yawning. It wasn't late, but time-lag was starting to tell on them.

"Where are Zirl and Rak?"

He looked up from his Verpine shatter gun. "The furball's trying to teach Rak how to flip pancakes. It was getting messy when I left."

"I'll bet it was." She sat on the table in the middle of the cabin. "I was thinking about the journey up the Run. There's still something we need to do."

He looked up. "What?"

She shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Well, I know I've said your family and all, and your part of the Taruni clan no matter what, but the thing is you've never, to put too fine a point on it, ever actually looked like Mandalorians. There's a person on Zolan who owes me some favours, so I was thinking about stopping there and picking up a few suits."

"Suits? Of armour?" He stared at her. "Actual _beskar'gam_?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you haven't actually got proper armour now, so I think it'd be best if you had a few sets. And Rak and the Wooks too, only not with the full set, cos' frankly I don't think the helmet would fit too well... argh!"

Crash had impulsively pulled her into a bone-cracking hug. She turned bright red and muttered "Gerrof."

He let go and laughed suddenly. "Sarge, can you imagine the others faces when they see them?"

She nodded, cracking a small smile, the first since Tatooine.

XXXXXXXX

Climber had a very poor opinion of Arkanians, putting them in the same group as he did Kaminoans and other mad scientist types. Naturally being inclined to dislike those who tried to tamper further with his DNA, he tried to avoid the whole race, on the whole.

But right now this mad scientist was all that stood between Tor and a rapidly approaching death, so Climber was forced to bury his loathing and put up with the mad scientist in question.

Gǽreal Arëca had been – a long time ago now- a member of the Arkanian Renegade faction. After the groups defeat by the Jedi more than forty years before, he had gone into hiding in the industrial sector of Novania. He wouldn't say how Reuma had found him, but Climber had got the distinct impression that they had had, as his sergeant would put it, 'words'.

He still hid in the same cubby-hole, a forgotten warehouse that smelled of power fumes and sand, earning a living renting out the various offices of the building to those who, for one reason or another, couldn't afford or didn't want to use a regular bureau. And, of course, by treating such clones that Reuma had been sending to him lately.

Evidently he still had contacts with the regular Arkanian scientists, as he had simply drawn blood from the commandos' arms – the first they had come here, what felt like years ago- and sent it off. When they had come back months later, he had been holding a flash-freeze canister with a tray of needles in it. Climber hadn't bothered to ask how he had done it, figuring he probably didn't want to know.

The Arkanian peered through cracked spectacles at Tor, who was seated on an old bench and looked visibly nervous.

"Hmmmm," he mumbled, "a regular?"

Tor nodded apprehensively. Arëca frowned and cleaned the glasses.

"Is he healthy?" he asked Climber.

"Ask him yourself," the commando snapped back.

Tor cleared his throat. "Yes sir. I am."

The older one squinted at the ceiling, watching the golden speaks of dust drift down. Drifting from the doors above and around, there were quiet murmurs and the odd raised voice, as dozens of other beings concluded business of their own.

"I still have the virus left over from your treatment," he told Climber eventually. "However, this holds an increased risk to the trooper. At the very least he will be comatose for a few hours."

"How long will it take for a specific treatment to be developed?" Tilaté asked.

"Three to four days, depending on whether I can get the blood samples to my colleagues in time."

All three looked at each other.

"Too long then," said Climber finally.

"I am sorry." Climber personally wasn't convinced of that, but let it pass. "I cannot do it in any shorter time."

"What are the risks from the old samples?" Tor asked haltingly.

The Arkanian pressed his lips together. "Well, your DNA is not unequivocally correspondent to theirs. This does _not_," he glared at them, "mean that the treatment would be unsuccessful, but it means there would be a risk of seizure, cardiac arrest or other such problems, as the virus would have to work differently in your RNA and genetic material to counteract your higher levels of the obedience-producing hormones, and –"

"Fine, we get the picture," Climber cut him off.

"Quite. In short, your life would be at a risk of approximately one in three of extended malfunction, or one in five of permanent decease."

"Decease being so very permanent," muttered Tilaté.

"I'm ready to take the risk," said Tor quietly.

Climber scowled, filled with misgivings. "You don't have to. We can avoid the patrols."

"Not _that_ long, sir. Sir-" this was at Arëca "-how long is a few hours?"

"Two or three. It is impossible to predict accurately."

Tor looked back his sergeant. "Did sergeant Seritole say whether she knew anyone else here?"

Climber caught on to the thought. "No, but knowing sarge a quick trip to the local smugglers bars should find us someone."

"Alright sir." He took a deep breath and turned to Arëca. "If you inject me now, Captain Climber and Tilaté can go-"

"Not me," said Tilaté flatly, "I stay with you."

"Okay, so sarge can go and find us a transport while I'm... I'm not able to come with him." He glanced up at Climber. "If that's alright sir?"

Climber wavered, before agreeing. "It's the fastest way, and we need to get of this shithole as quick as possible."

The Arkanian rose creakily. "If that is your decision..."

"It is."

"Very well." he made for the cracked metal door of the office, hobbling slowly. "If the trooper and the woman will follow me, there is a resting area we may use."

Climber watched them go out with trepidation, but there was nothing he could do. Tor would just have to take the risk.

Just like the rest of the Shadows.

XXXXXXXX

For a moment that stretched into eternity, Aine stared at the T-shaped visor in front of him. Neither man moved an inch, not the white-outlined black shape of the Mandalorian, or the ragged, overall clad shape of the commando.

An eruption of snarls and screams jolted him out of his trance, and Aine didn't stop to think as he elbowed his way past his rescuer and into the corridor outside. Yala – fur stood up to resemble a two metre tall toilet brush – was roaring and flailing at another Wookie, this one with white fur, dressed like Yala in an ammo halter and waist-wrap, swiping at her with extended claws. Holding onto both, like tugs around a battleship, was Ras and Zip.

The Mandalorian came up behind Aine and made an exasperated noise. "Snoova! _Check_!"

The white Wookie gave a reluctant growl and stepped back. Yala bared her teeth and did likewise.

Aine felt lost. He even_ sounded_ like Jango.

He acted like the old bounty hunter as well, as instead of hanging around to check on the rescued captives the mysterious man waved his hand at the Wookie and gestured up the corridor. "Xachta's group is holding them off. We need to move. Leave the furball alone."

The commando felt he should uphold his sergeants' training standards. "Zip, Ras, fall in behind me. Yala, get back into rearguard position."

She grudgingly complied, giving Snoova a filthy look as she did so. Aine didn't bother trying to understand what the matter was.

The masked man gave an approving nod and threw them each a blaster pistol. "Keep behind me and Snoova. The rest are up ahead, they'll fall in behind."

Aine gave a half-salute. They took positions up behind the two soldiers. The Wookie shouldered a blaster rifle bigger than his leader and growled in readiness.

They ran.

Up at the corridor entrance were a mismatched group of Wookies, Ubese in environmental armour suits and humans wearing a hodgepodge of armour. One of them –a brown-furred Wookie with chin braids – rumbled something to the Mandalorian. In the lighter atmosphere of the guard post Aine could see the colour of his armour, black with a blue trim. For an insane moment he thought it was Walon Vau, another _Cuy'val Dar_.

The Mandalorian waved away whatever the Wookie had told him. "We can deal with it. Farsh, what's the damage count?

A Sullustan in medics' gear gulped and blurted out, "Nothing serious. One of the Ubese took a hit, but we got his suit patched up ok and he can walk."

"Good. Get him to the middle and stay near him. Xachta –" The brown Wookie growled. "– fall in as rearguard. We need to break out of here fast."

Aine cleared his throat. "There's a Dark Jedi..."

The Mandalorian swore in Huttese. "That's all we need. Alright you heard him! _Move_!"

They fell into position with supreme discipline, something Aine saw as rivalling that of the old GAR itself. Pushing aside his confusion, he readied his blaster.

"_Solus_..._ tad_..._ ehn_!"

The whole group burst out through the guard post doors, met with a storm of red needles. Aine took full advantage of his location in the middle to fire back, using the armoured soldiers in front as cover. Each shot found a target.

The T-visor gave him a commending look as it noted his rate of fire. "Keep it up commando!"

Yala – blaster pistol nestling like toy in her huge paws – snarled something that made Ras turn pale. "She says she got a glimpse of Halmere."

Aine cocked his pistol, but the way ahead showed nothing except white-armoured Stormtroopers. The Mandalorian muttered something obscene.

"Blasted Dark Jedi, wonderful..."

Snoova rumbled something sarcastic. Yala ignored him.

"He'll come round the back," muttered Aine half to himself, not sure how he knew. "He'll try and ambush us. He's that type of person."

A snort. "Met him, have you?"

Aine looked at the leader. Something in his face must have showed his feelings, because the man took an involuntary step backwards.

"Yes," he said simply.

Zip grasped his shoulder in silence, an unusual enough occurrence for Aine to start. The Mandalorian cleared his throat.

"Then we'd better hurry up."

They turned back to the fight.

XXXXXXXX

Ross Kohla was a Clawdite, although only very close friends knew this. She had survived on Zolan for fifty or so years, firstly by assuming the form of a native Zolander whenever approached and secondly by being a good enough armoursmith for those who did know her secret not to care. This suited her very well.

The fact that the Mabari came to her for suits and made it known that they would be exceptionally annoyed if she were to disappear also helped.

Right then she was looking at the biggest order of her career, but far from being happy about it she was feeling somewhat on edge.

"It be taking time to make this," she told her impassive customer. "Mandalore-iron not like armourweave. Needs buying. Needs extensive shaping."

"How long?" he other asked.

The Clawdite sucked through her teeth unintentionally. "To get hold of materials, a week. For each set, one in about a day. That be fifteen days, not counting emblems or such you want on them."

"I'd like them to have _kamas_ as well," Reuma added. "Armourweave."

"Skirts? Another half-day then."

"How much?"

Another sucking sound. "About twenty thousand?" The last was tentative.

"Nice try. Fifteen."

Ross didn't argue. Fifteen thousand was good pay for a Clawdite nowadays. "You be hanging around?"

"Not a good idea, really. We'll come back with the money to pick up."

"When?"

"When we can. You'd better take the measurements."

Reuma went outside for air as the Clawdite started to measure Crash. The sun was setting, dimming the pale sky from lavender to a deep purple.

A nagging feeling started up again in the back of her head, something she had started to pick up since exiting hyperspace. A feeling that nagged and niggled her, making her stomach churn with anxiety. It was a worrying feeling.

The faces of her _vod'ike_ came into her mind.

"If there's anyone out there," she said under her breath, "keep them safe. Please."

There was no reply.


	10. Sorrow

**9: Sorrow**

_Desperation breeds sorrow. Sorrow breeds despair._

_-Enetirian saying_

Climber made it back from his trip to the smuggling cantinas of Arkania to find a comatose Tor mumbling on a narrow bunk, Tilaté holding his hand and looking anxious. He swore.

"He still hasn't woken up?"

She shook her head suddenly, ruby eyes filled with fear. Tor cried out in his sleep.

Climber chewed his bottom lip. "Well, we can't wait. I've got a freighter to Bogden for us, but it leaves in less than an hour."

She looked back down at the unconscious clone trooper. "We'll have to carry him."

Climber nodded, and slapped a handful of rainbow-coloured bills on the bedside table. "Fair payment," he said bitterly.

She said nothing, but started to haul Tor upright. Climber helped her, making no comment as he shouldered most of the clones' weight. She knew he was doing it, and he knew she knew; speaking it out loud was a waste of breath.

They struggled through the door and out of the warehouse, jolting the trooper between them. A Duro was waiting outside impatiently, jerking straight as he saw the threesome.

"What's wrong with _him_?"

"He's ill," said Climber shortly. Tor was heavier than he looked. "He'll recover."

The Duro looked uneasy. "Didn't agree to play nurse on this trip..."

"You won't, and there won't _be_ a trip if you don't _shut up_ and _start moving_," Climber snarled tensely.

The journey to the freighter wasn't a long one. The last of the spice was being loaded as they dragged Tor up the ramp.

Climber bedded them down in the cramped hold. Tor moaned something, half-conscious. Tilaté looked even more worried.

"Will he be alright?" she whispered as the engines were fired up.

Climber shrugged as they lifted upwards, too concerned himself to comfort her. "He survived Kamino. He can survive this."

They didn't speak until the ship was fully in the air. "Is it... bad there?" Tilaté asked nervously.

"Bad enough."

She stroked Tors' face tenderly, her eyes confused. "I'll make it up to him then."

Climber opened his mouth to reply, just as the ship alarms blared a red alert. He swore and raced to the cockpit.

The Duro had turned from green to grey with fear. "Imp fighters."

"Jump dammit! They're gaining!"

"Coordinates ain't set. It'll take at least –"

The ship shook and Climber heard a scream from the hold. He didn't need the Duro yelling, "We bin' hit! Shields down 50!"

"So start _avoiding_ them you_ di'kut_!" Climber snapped.

"Too fast! Power going to rear shields."

"Does this thing have guns?"

"It's trader, not warship!"

Climber cursed the air blue, mentioning in particular moronic smuggler captains who didn't equip ships with laser cannons. The Duros frowned.

"You being more polite, I –" another light flashed on the already blinking controls. "We got coordinates!"

"_Punch it_!"

The Duro eagerly complied with the glaring commando, hissing with delight as space stretched around them and they left the fighters behind.

XXXXXXXX

They were almost there. The back entry that the liberating force had blasted their way through before lay open, Aine could practically _taste_ the air outside. All they had to do was make it to the door...

Their Mandalorian rescuer wasn't about to lose his concentration now though. "Form up. Stay alert."

Snoova grunted and hoisted the rifle higher. The rest bunched together and began to jog forward in a disciplined march, keeping ranks and wary of any sudden attack. It almost made the commando nostalgic, marching together with a competent group of fighters. Part of something bigger than himself. Just like the old days.

_Behind you. _

Ras cast a look back and yelled "_Sir!_" just as the first of the rearguard was decapitated.

The leader spun and cursed. Halmere had sneaked behind them unnoticed; only throwing off his Force projection as he closed in for the kill. Behind him was another pack of Stormtroopers.

"Open fire! Fighting retreat!" he bawled out.

The Dark Jedi didn't even twitch, finishing off an Ubese before he looked up. He caught Aine's eye.

_Forceps reaching out, tips glowing red, don't talk don't talk don't talk, a galaxy of fear opening, shadows closing in, sarge why aren't you here, you promised you'd come, you said, warped shapes, sphere hovering_...

The commando struggled to breathe, to think, but he couldn't. He tried to get up, but the cells closed in again, the door slammed shut and he was left in the darkness of the Jedis' eyes, watching as the droid drew closer...

Zip yelped as his sergeants' knees buckled and he fell.

"Sarge! What's wrong?"

He couldn't even speak, he couldn't, they'd find out, he'd put them in danger he couldn't say anything, safer to stay silent...

The Mandalorian snarled in Huttese and _Mando'a_, spitting out orders. "Snoova! Get the rest out! You lot –" this was at the rescued Shadows "– get him up and moving, or we leave you behind. I'm not killing my team for you!"

Order fled, the rescuers were dashing for the exit, a few laying out covering fire as they ran. The Shadows were being left behind, like sea creatures stranded on a beach when the tide pulls back. The Mandalorian was covering them, but it was plain he was outgunned; Halmere was drawing closer all the time and Aine still couldn't move. Things were about as bad as they could ever be.

About. Not as.

That was still to come.

XXXXXXXX

The _Nebula_ was ready to go. A course had been set for Druckenwell, supplies had been loaded, weapon and shields systems checked and the registry recalibrated to read a false transponder code. All the crew were aboard. It was time.

The systems powered up, the controls were twitched into place. It rose into the bright noon sun, surface brushing away the clinging clouds indifferently.

Crash looked through the cockpit. The panorama below him was like that of a fantasy land, all towering white spires, floating parapets and rolling pristine hills tinged with pink and gold. Rakiss gazed in awe beside him.

"Pretty," he noted.

"You said it lizard," said Crash.

The Trandoshan turned to him, but not in anger. He looked uncertain. "Question I must ask."

"Fire away." He remembered Rakiss' erratic approach to human expression and added hastily "metaphorically of course."

"The..." he struggled to fit the words round his tongue, "the _Mando'ade_, are they all Human? All like you?"

Crash stopped to think. "I don't think so. Sarge said once that there were Togorians and Rodians in the in the old days. Might still be."

"So it not matter what you are?"

He shrugged. "As long you follow the _Resol'Nare_ you are Mandalorian. We can't really afford to be picky."

"_Resol'Nare_?"

Crash tried to explain. "The Six Actions. That's...wearing the armour, speaking _Mando'a_, defending yourself and your family, making sure your kids are Mandalorians, helping your clan, and defending your Mandalore if he calls you."

"We not with Mandalore," Rakiss pointed out.

"I'm not sure there is even one now." Crash sighed a bit, something he was not prone to doing.

"So..." Rakiss looked thoughtful. "You clan with captain then?"

"Clan a_nd_ family. Two hummers with one stone there."

"Got no family," Rak said sadly.

Crash clasped his shoulder. "You're with us now."

The Trandoshan looked up, lilac eyes sharp. "That mean you _buir_ to me?"

He started. A father... well, the Mandalorians had a long history of adopting orphans, but not _cross-species_...

His brain kicked in at this point, highlighting the likelihood of him ever finding a woman daft enough to marry him, the probability of him ever having children and the chances of them all dieing in the next year or so. Another bit just shrugged and said _why not_? He was a good kid, he punched hard enough to leave dents in their old clone armour and he picked up the language fast enough. He just happened to have scales and claws.

He looked down and grasped the undersized youngster on his shoulders with both hands. "Do you want me to be?"

Rak nodded fiercely. "_Gedet'ye_." Please.

Crash grinned, suddenly feeling very buoyant. He had a son. A runty albino from the wrong species, a reptile who barely came up to his ribcage, but a _son_. He lifted the Trandoshan up onto his shoulders.

"I think we had better go and tell sarge, _ad_." He smiled.

Rakiss grinned as only a Trandoshan can. "Maybe better had,_ buir_."

XXXXXXXX

Climber was _not _grinning. Tor was still comatose in the holds of the transport _Escapade_, the Theelin woman – still staying silent on her involvement in this insane escapade – hadn't moved from his side in all the hours they had been stuck in the cramped storeroom and what's more he was having a bad feeling about the fates of his comrades in the other two ventures.

No matter what he did, his long-range transmitter wasn't connecting with the other receivers, meaning the coms they were linked to were either in hyperspace, or destroyed.

Climber fervently hoped it was the former. The latter didn't bear thinking about.

XXXXXXXX

Zip had observed once that each of the Taruni-trained clones had picked something up from their sergeants. Ras hadn't heard about this theory, but if he had he would have agreed.

He knew, for example, that he had inherited Reumas' shyness around strangers (admittedly she hid it better than he). He knew this. But he also knew that he had picked up other things, things they had all picked up.

Like honour. Like loyalty. Like the hard-won knowledge, the deeply held conviction that however bad _your _death was, it was much worse to watch a friend die. That when you ran into a firefight to save a comrade it was a selfish action, because the blaster bolts weren't as bad as the pain that struck when you lost someone you cared about.

Ras cared about Aine. The commando was a brother; Ras respected and admired his proficiency with weapons, his introspection and imagination, his leadership skills. He appreciated the sacrifice the sergeant had been prepared to make on Kashyyyk, how he had fought during the raid on the village to keep his leader alive.

He knew that Aine was more than just the defunct head of their little mission; he was, despite his secondary rank to Climber, the closest thing the Shadows had to a second-in-command.

At that moment, as he struggled to make his sergeant rise, Ras saw the future. Two futures.

One held Aine. The other did not.

He saw them, and he knew he had a choice to make. And because he was _Mando'ad_ and a Republic Commando, that choice was no choice at all.

He picked up his pistol and, very slowly, walked towards the Dark Jedi Halmere.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma drew a small bottle from under the dejarik table. She had been saving it for a special occasion, and felt that this warranted as one.

"Chandrilan brandy," she told the gathered crew members. Even TC was present, an unofficial amnesty called just for that day. "Some of the finest."

She rooted around for glasses and poured the sweet-scented liquid into each of them. She passed around the tumblers and raised her own.

"A toast is in order, I think," she said.

XXXXXXXX

"Are you still hovering over him?" asked Climber irritably. Tor still hadn't woken and Tilaté still hadn't moved.

She didn't move. "I can't leave him. I won't."

"He won't get better just by you being there."

"I know," she said softly. "And yet I still stay."

"Why?"

She looked up at him incredulously. "You really need to ask?"

XXXXXXXX

Aine looked up, out of the dark pit of his memory. What he saw made the doorway outside creak open a little, and his heart constrict with something that wasn't friendship or fright, but something in-between.

Ras was approaching the Dark Jedi, showing a complete lack of fear. As he walked he fired, a steady stream of red laser beams that were in turn effortlessly deflected by the matching crimson blade in the mans' hands. Undaunted, he continued.

Aine tried to yell at him to run, but the droid had taken his voice.

XXXXXXXX

They all raised their glasses. Reuma cleared her throat.

"It's been a long time since the rise of the Empire," she began. "Since then we've been outlaws, we have been hunted and cast out and rejected by regular society – not that that changes much," she added to general laughter.

"We've been chased from one side of the galaxy to the other," she continued, "and in all probability we'll end up spending our lives in battle, or dieing slowly in an Imperial interrogation cell somewhere. Those things are important, but there is something that is more so."

She looked at Crash, seated with his arm around Rakiss. They watched her wide-eyed.

"Family," she said quietly, "always comes first."

XXXXXXXX

"Indulge me, ma'am. Most wouldn't bother for a clone."

"But you have to know," she said bewildered. "How can you not?"

"Know what?"

She shook her head sadly. "What do they do to you, that you don't know? Or do they breed it out of you?"

"Just spit it out," he snapped.

XXXXXXXX

Ras had reached Halmere.

He kept firing to the last, until the barrel of his blaster smoked and glowed like its fire, until the handle heated so he could no longer hold it and he had to let it fall, drawing a knife purloined from the dead. He looked back at Aine for one last time.

The commando read the words in his brothers' eyes.

_Run away_, he pleaded. _Escape._

Aine tried to stand, raised himself enough to see clearly what happened next.

Ras turned back to the Dark Jedi, dodged aside a sweep of the lightsaber, feinted, cut at one sleeve and gasped as he was run through.

Aine stared as his brother fell.

XXXXXXXX

"Mandalorians are more than a culture," Reuma said gently, thinking of her trainees. "They – we – are a family. If you are a Mandalorian, you are never alone, because there will always be others in the galaxy who think and act as you do, who hold to the same ideals and honour the same code.

"Every Mandalorian alive is part of the same family. It is part of who we are." She looked at Rak again. "If you join us you must always remember what and who we are. Or you are worse than dead, you have nothing. No soul, no life. Not even hope."

XXXXXXXX

Tilaté wouldn't explain, and Climber was getting frustrated.

"Just _tell_ me," he said with exasperation. "Just tell me _why_."

"If you don't know, you can never understand," she said softly.

"Just say it. It doesn't matter if I understand or not." He laughed bitterly. "It won't make a difference. There's a lot I don't understand anyway."

XXXXXXXX

Aine raised his head, though it felt like lifting a dieing star. He raised it until he looked again into the eyes of the Dark Jedi Halmere and this time he didn't look away.

With one smooth movement, he drew his pistol and fired into the face of his darkness, and the darkness shattered before him. The prison door swung free, the droid fled and daylight speared through, chasing away the night.

Sound came back.

Screams and yells and the screech of blasters, all mingled in an awful melody, a hymn for the dead. Aine hardly noticed that Zip was swearing and crying at the same time, that Yala was howling with grief, that behind them their Mandalorian rescuer was blasting away with both guns, that the enemy was falling back and they were moving forward. All he saw was Halmeres' visage in front of him.

And then it disappeared, as if it had never been.

He didn't notice as the Mandalorian rushed to them, urging them to follow him out. He ignored the mans yells, walked numbly forward until he reached Ras' crumpled body.

His eyelids flickered and opened. Ras smiled weakly.

As the rescue squad picked him up, as Aine stumbled after them blindly, he saw in his mind that smile and he knew the full depths of his guilt.

If Ras died, it would be _his_ fault.

XXXXXXXX

"I propose a toast," Reuma concluded. "To us. To Rakiss and Crash, who have discovered the truth behind the Mandalorians, that in the end we are more than just soldiers or mercenaries, we are a people, a people made up of families. I propose a toast to them, and to the rest of the Shadows, because in the end we are the only family any of us has left."

She raised her glass.

"To the Shadows."

They raised their own glasses. "To the Shadows!"

A picture came to her head from over a year ago, an image of an old Jedi Master and in his arms a sleeping infant he believed to be the hope of the future. She remembered the past.

"May the Force be with us," she said quietly, and drank.

XXXXXXXX

Tilaté looked up at the commando captain, not noticing as she did so that Tor was stirring.

"It's so hard," she said as his eyes opened overlooked in the gloom. "I never thought I would ever say it..."

"Say what?" Climber asked impatiently.

She took a deep breath. "I love him. More than anything. I can't explain why or how, but I do. I love him."

Climber gazed at her in astonishment, as Tor stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and felt a tear trickle down his face.

XXXXXXXX

"Sir..."

Aine crawled over to Ras, carefully avoiding the defenders cramped together in the damp gloom. They had taken refuge for a breather in an old cellar, and the former prisoners were huddled in one corner behind the barricade of armoured bodies.

The commando was almost smiling, in stark contrast to Aine himself. He felt as though he would never smile again.

He held Ras' hand. "Hush, Ras. You're going to be fine."

Ras cracked a weak grin, struggling to breathe. "You're... a damn... bad liar, sir. Always... were."

Aine shook his head, forcing himself not to look at the hole under Ras' heart, the one which he knew deep down couldn't be cured. "You_ are_, we'll make you better..."

"Aw, hush up... sir. I'm... dieing and ...you know it."

Aine shivered, the cell walls looming in his memory. It couldn't be. Not now. Not after everything.

"Why?" he whispered bitterly. "Why bother? Why did you even bother?"

Ras looked surprised at the question. "You're... my brother, sir. Isn't that what... brothers... do?"

And with that, in total silence under the streets of Kliffen, Ras Taruni died.


	11. Regret and ambush

**10: Regret and ambush**

_Alert to all Imperial personnel. Prisoner escape of one RC-3889, RC-3662, and Wookie Yalatabuk. Suspects to be captured alive at all costs, and should be considered extremely dangerous._

_-Imperial channel, origin Kilffen Base, Commenor _

"Mistress Seritole, we are approaching Druckenwell."

Reuma didn't look up from the controls. "I know."

TC-16 read the inflections of her voice, her general posture, and body language, and drew a conclusion. "Do you still feel unwell, mistress?"

She didn't answer him. The feeling just wouldn't go away, as if she had been in the middle of an enormous web that reached into her heart, and suddenly one of the strands had been cut. It had happened days ago, just as she after had drunk the brandy in a toast.

She had put it down then to a bad vintage, but now she wasn't so sure.

Finally she answered. "Just a little tired, TC."

XXXXXXXX

Climber watched over his brother and... and whatever Tilaté had become now. They were both asleep again, Tor recovering from the effects of his 'cure' and the Theelin still flatly refusing to leave his side. Now they were curled up together, oblivious.

It was strange, but when he looked at them he felt almost jealous. Jealous of a sick grunt, for crying out loud.

The Duro came down from the cockpit. "Bogden coming up."

He tore his gaze from the sleeping pair. "Fine. Just don't crash this crate when you try land it."

XXXXXXXX

"Will you be alright?"

Zip shrugged. It had been three days since Ras had died, and they were ready to leave. Things had turned out very strangely.

_Very_ strangely.

_The Mandalorian had come over. Even through his armour, he had managed to appear sorrowful. "He's dead isn't he?"_

_Aine hadn't been able to reply. Zip had had to butt in. "Yes sir."_

"_Gods." The sounds of blasters had faded away outside, as the Stormtroopers had fallen back to wait for reinforcement. "I'm sorry. He was a good_ vod_."_

_Several things had clicked. "Who were you, sir? Back in the days?"_

_The man had reached up and taken off the helmet, revealing bronze skin and dark hair identical to Zips' own. The only difference came from the massive X-shaped scar across his forehead._

_Zip stared. He had been there when that scar had happened._

"Muzzle_?"_

_Alpha-66, 'Muzzle', had nodded. "Perceptive as ever, Zip."_

Oh yes. Things had really turned out strange.

For example, they were now huddled together in a massive hanger bay, awaiting the arrival of three astromech droids – for free – beside a battered group of _Cutlass_-9 fighters – _not_ free, Muzzles' affection for them didn't extend_ that_ far – because, as the old ARC had pointed out, there was no-one else to fly to fighters intended for Climber, Tor and Crash.

The clone sucked his teeth and leaned against one of the purple-shelled starfighters. "That old _di'kut_ sergeant of yours still alive?"

Zip knew which one he meant. "Yeah, she got us off Coruscant in the first place."

"Tell her the Aurodium Sword will always need new members." He gazed into space. "If she wants."

"Might be a bit difficult, considering your clients..." _Who just happen_, he added silently, _to be the ones who killed Ras._

"Meh, they won't notice. Bunch of blind _aruetiise_."

Zip didn't dare argue. You generally didn't with ARCs. "Will they know it was you down in the cells?"

"Why should they? I had all my lot disguise themselves, and that armour did good work. They'll think we were just Shadows like you." He grinned starkly. "Say thanks to sarge for me when you give the _beskar'gam_ to her. I enjoyed wearing it."

The commando nodded. The events here were a tangled web that he knew would take an age to sort out, and they didn't have an age. More like – he glanced at his wrist chrono – two minutes.

"Here they come."

Snoova, fur dye washed out to reveal his natural brown colouring, entered with a trio of droids in tow. He growled as he approached the Shadows and the old ARC.

Aine said nothing, but turned away and started to climb into his cockpit. He hadn't spoken since Ras had died. Yala followed suit.

Zip coughed and extended his hand to Muzzle. "Thanks for this," he said awkwardly. "It can't have been easy finding a buyer on short notice."

The other shrugged it off. "Life ain't cheap on the whole, and I tend to think mine is worth more than most." He hand-clasped the commando with a smile. "This is good payback for Geonosis. And the tip-off for Arkania."

Zip nodded and started to climb into his own starfighter. The astromechs were hoisted into the spares, and they all powered up.

"Zip!"

He looked down at Muzzle just as he readied his cockpit canopy. The ARC cupped his hands over his mouth and bellowed up.

"Make sure he gets through this!"

Zip didn't need to ask who the other was talking about. He knew.

They all knew.

The starfighters lifted off the floor and flew to the clear skies outside.

XXXXXXXX

They had not lingered at Druckenwell, but stopped a short while for supplies and fresh air. Less than an hour after they had landed, they had taken off again, making their way up the Corellian Run, as fast as the hyperdrive could carry them.

And so they flitted through hyperspace, past Kalarba and Aridas, flitting past Iktotch and Tynna, leaving the route halfway to travel up the Hydian Way, towards Ruusan.

Even at faster-than-light speed made possible by the unreality of the Blue, it took a week for them to reach Recopia, another week for them to blast their way to the hyperspace route crossroads, where the Hydian Way crossed the Perlemian Trade Route.

They were forced to stop there, at Carida. The Imperial presence was heavy, but the false transponder code worked well and the hidden compartment were large enough for a Wookie and a clone to hide in. They were not unduly troubled as they picked up blaster gas and food supplies from the local markets, and they were in space again the very same day, heading for Nak Shimor

XXXXXXXX

Two weeks had passed by on Bogden; two lousy, wasted weeks spent kicking mud and drinking alcohol that tasted of rocket fuel in deadbeat cantinas. Two weeks of dodging watchful bounty hunters, of bunking down in shabby hotels and eating food that is perhaps best left to imagination.

None of this was improving Climbers' temper any. He had taken to avoiding Tor and Tilaté, for the simple reason that being around them both made him want to hit something. Or someone. He was angry at them, at himself for being angry, at the moon for being a stinking cesspit of scum and at his fellow Shadows for being late and forcing him to stay on the said stinking cesspit of scum.

It was therefore with great relief that he saw six purple-painted _Cutlass_ class starfighters breaking the clouds. A great relief, that is, until he did some quick mental calculation and frowned.

Why were they one short?

XXXXXXXX

Aine watched Bogden loom in front of him with anything but joy. He knew damn well what was going to happen as soon as they touched down.

The main settlement – a muddy, festering stew to rival Mos Eisley in its corruption and casual criminality – offered only one landing area, a duracrete-covered circle of land dotted with beat-up trading ships and rusty smuggling vessels. He steered his fighter down carefully, anxious to avoid scratching it or the neighbouring ships.

They were in enough trouble as it was.

_He's dead. It's all your fault._

As soon as he jumped out he was engulfed by an irate tirade from a familiar personage.

"Where have you _been?_ Do you_ know_ this place is a shithole? What _kept_ you?"

He turned to face Climber and felt his heart drop. The clone captain already looked mad enough as it was, in contrast to Tor and the strange woman holding his hand, who just looked pleased to see them.

_I killed Ras. I killed his last remaining squad member._

He tried to clear his throat, seeing out of the corner of his eye Zip and Yala disembarking as well. Zip spoke, saving him the trouble. "Um, we... we ran into trouble..."

"So did we, but we managed to get ourselves here a damn sight quicker. Sarge is going to blow her top..." He stopped and looked at their faces. "What?"

Since Commenor he had barely talked, just enough to direct them to planetfall and to barter for food supplies. It didn't come back easily

"It was... bad trouble," he said hollowly.

Climber looked from him, then to Yala, then to Zip, and back at him again. The first sign of fear flickered on his face. "Where's Ras?"

"There was..." Aine broke off and closed his eyes for a moment. "There was a Dark Jedi. We were caught."

"And... you had to leave him behind? We have to rescue him?" Climber sounded almost desperate.

_We left him behind. We can't rescue him._

Zip saw his sergeants face and spoke up again. "No," he said quietly, "we can't. The... the Jedi..."

Tor had turned very pale. The Theelin woman grasped his hand tightly and gave them a gaze filled with sorrow.

Climber looked sick. "He's...?"

Aine nodded. Zip and Yala were as silent as death, and as still.

Climber looked down at the ground, breathing hard. Then he looked back up.

Aine heard Zip gulp at the rage on the man's face.

"What _happened_?"

"I..." his throat blocked. "I... it was in a firefight... he tried to take on the Jedi..."

"_Why?_ He wasn't fucking stupid! Why would he _do _that?"

No going back now. He had to admit to what had happened. What he had done. What he _hadn't_ done.

He had messed up the mission.

He had let a Dark Jedi control him.

He had no excuse, no way of avoiding the blame. Ras had saved him, saved them all, from a Dark Jedi they should have dealt with from the start. Aine had failed to deal with him, or with himself, and now Ras was dead.

He had gotten his brother killed.

"Something happened," Aine said dully. "I don't know what. I froze up, couldn't walk... I tried to get up but I couldn't, and the Jedi was getting closer..."

Climber watched with a look of mingled anger and pain.

"He fought the Jedi," Aine finished, "to save us. To save me. And the Jedi killed him."

The other said nothing, did nothing. He just stood and stared.

Yala moaned with sorrow, as if trying to comfort him. Aine would never know what she said, because their translator was dead, killed by the Empire, and he couldn't understand her, or why, or how this could have happened, what had happened, he had acted like the worst sort of _aruetii_, not a Mandalorian at all.

Not even like a clone.

Climbers' gaze focused. It focused on Aine.

He saw the blow coming and did nothing to stop it. It hit him on the jaw, hard enough for him to be sent sprawling on the grimy duracrete. He didn't try to get up.

Climber stood over him, hatred merging with the tears on his face.

"_You_," he snarled, "You got him _killed_! You let him _die_! You were fucking _responsible_ for him, and_ you let him die_!"

The words struck him worse than the punch, because they were all true. He'd screwed up, and now Ras was dead. Because of him. Only him. His weakness had gotten Ras killed.

The hatred was replaced with contempt. "I will never understand why he took the trouble. Just for you."

Zip rose up in fury to defend his sergeant. "That isn't fair! The Jedi... he did something... he paralyzed Aine! It isn't his fault!"

Climber spun to face the commando. "Your precious Aine could have ordered him back! He could have called a retreat! But no, he was too _weak_..."

"He is not! And Ras knew the risks!"

"Oh yeah, he sure _knew_ that he was being led by a snivelling _hut'uun_!"

There was a collective wince, and Yala growled. The worst thing to call a fellow Mandalorian was a coward.

Aine picked himself up, not daring to look Climber in the eye. "I know it is my fault. I know. I will travel with you to sarge..."

Climber spat, making clear what he thought of the idea.

"I will go," he said quietly, "and I will tell her what happened. All of it. And then I will leave."

Zip and Yala protested. "No way, that's not fair..."

"It is. I failed as a leader. I failed as a brother." He glanced at them all, heart dead in his chest. "I can no longer stay."

He spun on his heel and walked to his fighter. Climber glared after him.

Tor coughed nervously, speaking for the first time. "Um, how are we going to get Tilaté off-planet?"

Climber just shrugged, his face still twisted with anger. "There are plenty of old ships around. Take your pick."

"Yessir."

Zip and Yala gave Climber one last furious look and hurried after their sergeant. Climber watched them go coldly.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma gazed down on Phindar.

They had left the Perlemian Trade Route soon after passing by Nak Shimon, flitting up the Daragon Trail past Obroa-skai and Mandalore to reach the nearest area to Vjun. Now she was waiting for a very specialised set of coordinates to finish being calculated.

She waited until the light flashed green, before sending the figures on a long-wave transmission to the two other groups.

XXXXXXXX

Aine's comlink beeped, but he ignored it. He could see who it was from.

He heard Climber's voice echo over the squads' com system. No one replied. There had been absolute silence between the Shadows since the confrontation on Bogden; a silence no-one was particularly keen on breaking, least of all him.

"Coordinates for Vjun being transmitted."

Green data scrolled down his control screen in green rain, and he punched the buttons to save it numbly. He hadn't felt like this since he had been kicked in the stomach by a Togorian, but instead of his stomach hurting, it was doing the opposite.

He couldn't feel _anything_. And he was _glad_ of it.

He heard the others preparing for naps on the fly as the Blue condescend around them, and envied them. Sleep brought no rest for him now. He switched off his link as reality gave in and vanished around him, thinking there was no point in waking the others with his screams.

He owed them that much.

XXXXXXXX

"Crash, Rak, Zirl. We're almost there."

They understood what she meant for them to do. Zirl hurried to the gun turrets, Rak to the passenger seats in the cockpit and Crash to the co-pilot seat, knowing that they were entering unknown territory – for them at least – and that it was best to be prepared.

Blue wash turned to blue streaks, then black dotted with white stars and a sickly green-yellow planet. Crash noticed Reumas' hands twitch on the controls.

"Something's wrong," she said softly.

Crash immediately started to worry. "Is that a spooky-Force-feeling wrong or some other kind?"

She flashed him a look full of grim humour. "Guess."

"Shit."

They dipped down to the night side, white sunlight flaring around the rim of the planet. Crash squinted into it, and something caught his eye.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

"What?" asked Rakiss nervously.

"There's a shape..."

Reuma squinted in his direction, then shouted a curse and slammed on the reverse thrusters. A yowl from the gunner turret indicated Zirl had hurt something, and an echoing bang sounded like TC had followed suit. Rakiss gurgled as his seat straps almost strangled him.

Crash rubbed his knee. "What–?"

She threw the ship around so hard the g-forces made his head dent the back of his seat. "Star Destroyer! Zirl, get ready!"

A blizzard of red blips filled the target screen. Reuma swore even more. "Those damn new ships..."

Green lasers streaked past the cockpit window. Rakiss yelled in fright as a few shots hit the rear shields, jolting everyone forward.

A strange black ship – resembling an ETA-2 Jedi starfighter – flew past the window, followed by a burst of blue fire from Zirl. Reuma turned dead white.

"Oh gods," she gasped.

"What?"

"Fuck, we're _dead_."

"_What?_"

The pilot of the black craft, now joined by two V-wings, spun in mid-turn and started back towards. The laser cannon didn't seem to touch him, seemingly casual flips of his wings taking him out of their path.

It was strange... the V-wings almost looked like an escort...

Crash cottoned on abruptly. "Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, _shit_."

Reuma spun the Nebula and pulled it almost straight up. The black ship followed them.

"_Hit_ him. For fucks sake, Zirl!" she screamed.

A frustrated roar from the turret told Crash everything he needed to know. Zirl wasn't about to hit anything.

The comlink on the control pad beeped. All three in the cockpit looked at each other.

Reuma leant over shakily and hit the receiver pad. A deep voice delivered an ultimatum.

"_Cut your engines, traitor. The Empire has found you... as it inevitably would_."

She stared at the comlink like she would have a snake, before replying unsteadily, "Hullo Anakin. Thought that was you."

Before she had even closed her mouth a flood of green laser bolts hit their rear shields, making alarms resound along the length of the ship. Rak yelped.

"Ok, I guess you don't like your old name all that much, no need to be touchy though..."

"_Anakin Skywalker is _dead," the voice spat. "_Surrender or we will disintegrate that pathetic pile of metal, along with you and those fools who trusted you enough to follow you._"

"Can't we jump?" muttered Crash in undertone.

"He'll realize, trust me. And then we'll all die."

"What do we do?"

Reuma looked helpless. "I... I don't know."

XXXXXXXX

It was cold, as cold as the frost of dead stars. Whiteness surrounded him, swirling clouds that whispered and cried at the edge of his vision. He caught a glimpse of gleaming white in the mist, and ran towards it. It was him, he knew it! He had to catch up before he disappeared, disappeared forever.

"Ras!" he yelled soundlessly. "Ras wait up!"

The mist swirled and parted, revealing a clone commando in gleaming white armour. He stared at Aine silently, arms crossed over his chest.

The sergeant slowed and stopped. "Ras? It's ok; I've come to take you back."

Ras just gazed at him, before unfolding his arms. Ragged flesh and white ribs gleamed in the ghostly light.

"Sarge?" he whispered.

Aine froze in horror, as the mist around them swirled and condescended, darkening to black...

"No!" he screamed.

The other grinned malevolently, and his face changed. The dark hair lightened to blond, his dark eyes deepened to hold all the evil the darkside could spawn. The white armour dissolved into a dark tunic and robes.

Halmere laughed. "Did you really think you could escape?"

Aine screamed again, but the walls were closing in and the droid was back, his body wouldn't obey him as it drew closer and closer...

"No-one escapes the Empire! _No-one_!"

"Vjun ahead."

Aine shivered and opened his eyes, resisting a strong urge to throw up. Hyperspace faded as realspace buckled and tore around them, beading into the six _Cutlass-9s _and one stolen R-22 _Spearhead_, flown by the last remaining astromech and carrying a very nervous Theelin.

"Holy shit!" Zip yelled.

Aine looked ahead and felt chilled. A YT-type freighter, whose occupants he could hazard a guess at, was being pursued by at least a full squad of the new TIE fighters, V-wings and one strange ship that moved too fast for them to get a lock on. He heard Climber swear.

"C'mon, let's blast these bastards to next year!"

With wild war whoops and cries, the Shadows dove down on the unsuspecting Imperials.

"Fighter to starboard!"

"I got him."

"_Die_ you scum-sucker! Hah!"

"Shadow five, get near Shadow four. Droids can't fly that well."

"Yessir."

Aine spun through the dogfight, TIEs and V-wings flashing almost past his nose. His target was the strange ship, still concentrating fire on the YT freighter.

A panicked voice came over their coms. "_Shadows! Disengage and jump to Gala!_"

"No worries sarge," said Climber, unruffled. "We can handle this lot."

"_No, you _can'tVader's_ here!_"

There was horrible pause. Then Climber found his voice.

"_Set coordinates now Shadows!_"

Aine hesitated. Maybe if he rammed the interceptor...

"_Hey, which one of you is that one by Vader?_"

Aine bit his lip. "Me sarge."

"_Well pull out and get ready. Are you mad or something?_"

_You have no idea_, he thought cynically as he punched in the data.

"All set sarge," came Climbers voice.

"Then go! _Go_!"

They went.


	12. Concord Dawn

**12: Concord Dawn**

_You have a twisted sense of humour, sarge._

_-RC-3669 to the Nebula, immediately after being told the new coordinates._

Whether through paranoia or healthy respect for their adversaries, Reuma didn't let them stop running until they reached Concord Dawn, the nearest friendly planet, almost three days later. The paradox of the location was not lost on any of the humans present.

Reuma had, apparently, been to the planet before, because she was able to steer them perfectly the largest settlement, and land in the fields outside it.

Crash was a little disappointed when they landed and disembarked. This was the birthplace of his template, his spiritual dwelling. He should experience something, a feeling of homecoming, some tremble of superstitious awe...

All he felt was relief to be out of the sterile conditions of the _Nebula_.

The wind blew at his short hair, over fields of a plant he couldn't even name. Whatever it was it was tall, green-stemmed with a golden head maturing to brown and it smelt of new things. Of heat and sap.

Despite being a clone, Crash had never really thought himself a copy of anyone. But now, in this place...

It wasn't awe or a sense of home, but the disconcerting feeling that he was looking at the past through another mans face.

He put it firmly out of his mind and ran to catch up with his sergeant. As he drew nearer, he tensed and slowed. Something was wrong. Something about the way they were standing... about how Aine was holding himself...

There was definitely, as Reuma would have put it, an Atmosphere.

He made it to the edge of the gathering and listened.

XXXXXXXX

Aine experienced much the same that his brother did, but dimmer and further away. The homeworld of his template only drove the knowledge of how completely he had failed everyone deeper.

Jango Fett would have never let a Jedi control him.

He stood – apart from the others, always apart now – near the fields of strange plants, breathing in their scent. It was oddly calming.

_When I leave, maybe I could live here_, he thought with dark humour._ It would have a certain irony about it._

Climber was the last to leave his ship. He didn't even look at Aine, and Aine tried not to look at him.

Reuma wasn't blind or stupid, and was therefore puzzled.

"What's going on? Why is there a Theelin here?" She blinked and looked around. "What's up with you lot?"

Climber's jaw clenched. "Ask him," he said tightly, pointing at Aine.

Reuma's eyes narrowed. "I'm asking _you_."

"He can tell you more." He threw Aine a bitter look. "Like _why_."

"Why what? Aine?" She turned to him. "What does he mean?"

Zip butted in. "That _di'kut's_ gone and got angry for no reason."

"There _is_ a kriffing reason," Climber snapped, "He got Ras killed!"

Reuma turned white. "_Ras_? Oh no, no..."

"It_ was_ my fault." Aine's voice was flat. "I slowed the squad up when we were escaping. Ras saved us. He died."

"But..." she shook her head, bewildered. "Why? Were you hurt? Why would it be your fault?"

"I was weak," he said dully. "I froze in fear. If Ras hadn't sacrificed himself, we would all be prisoners."

Climber snarled. "You gave into your fear and got him killed."

Aine didn't deny it.

Reuma looked from one to the other. "Look, even if you had... a problem that doesn't mean..."

"It does," Aine cut in. "It does. It was my fault. I am no longer fit to serve here. I will leave."

With that he turned, hearing Zip's groan, Yala's growl, and Crashs' soft curse. But also Climber's muttered remark –

"Good riddance."

He walked away to the town, and didn't look back.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma gaped at Aine's retreating back for a moment, before rounding on Climber.

"_What did you say?_"

The clone was defiant, face distorted with rage and hatred. "Only what was true."

"Not the whole truth!" Zip was incensed, something that didn't often happen. It had an unnerving effect, rather like being savaged by a nerf.

He turned to his sergeant. "It wasn't his fault! That Dark Jedi... Aine's never collapsed like that before! Why would he now?"

"A Dark Jedi?" Reuma looked at Climber. "There was a Dark Jedi?"

Climber gave a one-shoulder shrug, as if to say 'so?'

"But Jedi... you _know_ what they can do... and you _still_ blame him?"

"Jedi have never affected us before," the clone said bluntly. "We're bred to be resistant."

"But the darkside... it's a helluva lot stronger than the regular stuff Jedi use." She rubbed her eyes, as if they hurt her. "If that Darkie was properly trained, he could have given the whole squad the horrors, never mind Aine."

Climber looked less certain. "But he didn't. He just went for Aine. Because he's _weak_."

"You... you _idiot_." Now she looked mad. "I'll bet my boots you're doing just what he wants you to!"

"What do you mean?" asked Zip, perhaps sensing a defence for his brother.

"Well, you were escaping, right? About to break free?" Yala howled an affirmative. "So he wouldn't have been able to stop you, even with the Force... if you'd got that far... but if he just concentrated on one of you, maybe one he knew about already..."

"He did," Zip cut in. "He interrogated sarge, we... heard him."

She shuddered and accredited him. "So he's already a figure of fear for Aine, and that means he's got a hold over him. He knows what to do to put the horrors on him. So he targets Aine, and you all slow down..."

Climber spat. "Then he _did_ slow them down, just like I said."

"Yes, but _not_ to let you all be captured! Well, maybe at first, but after Ras was killed... I bet he just went, didn't he? You drove him back?"

Zip nodded.

"That _bastard_. He _knew_ what would happen! He damn well _knew_ Aine would blame himself, he probably knew at least _some_ of you would blame Aine!" Reuma's eyes were hard as she looked at Climber. "He wanted to split you up..."

Climber went ashen. "No."

"Oh yes, he wanted to split you up, he wanted you to drive Aine out... just like you've done... right to him!" She was shouting now. "You played right into his hands!"

With one movement, all of the Shadows turned to look at Climber. He looked back in shock, mouth open but silent with astonishment.

Reuma made an angry noise. "Yala, Zirl, go and get Aine. I don't care what he thinks he's done, _get_ him."

Yala yowled her opinion of Aine letting himself be brought back.

"Well knock him over the head or something," she snapped, "But whatever you do, _don't lose him_."

They rushed towards the town in haste. Zip coughed.

"Why don't _you_ go, sarge?

"There's something else I need to sort out," she said, looking hard at Tor.

XXXXXXXX

Aine was in the middle of haggling with an old ex-farmer when he saw the two Wookies rushing down the road towards him. He swore and stuffed a handful of credits into the man's fist, grabbing the ancient Zephyr swoop they had been bargaining over.

Kicking it to life he shot down the street. Doubtless sarge would want a further explanation. Doubtless she wanted to hear his side of the story. Doubtless he should stay and answer her.

But if he did she would plead and implore and cajole him into staying. He would protest and argue, but eventually he would give in because she was his sergeant and he had been following her orders for the better part of his life. No, he couldn't go back.

He swept around a pair of dusty landspeeders and speed south, away from his guilt.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma was a blunt sort of person, but she wasn't completely devoid of tact. She had sent Climber and Rakiss off together to prepare a late dinner (it was almost noon on Concord Dawn, but warp-lag meant that it was closer to late evening for the Shadows. Plus it got a somewhat ashamed Climber out of sight, along with the one person present who didn't want to hurt him quite badly). Crash and Zip had been tasked with setting up a perimeter defence, getting them out of the general area of Climber and giving Zip a chance to explain what had happened to his brother. A steady stream of swearwords was drifting on the hot air from their position.

That left Tor and Tilaté. Along with Reuma.

_Is it too much to ask_, she wondered, _for me to leave them alone for_ five minutes _without them getting into trouble? Is it too much to ask for them to _grow up

Although, it seemed, the problem was precisely that Tor_ was_ growing up. He just happened to be doing it at an inconvenient moment.

The clone had stumbled through a hasty explanation of how he and the Theelin had met, what had happened, and why she had come with them. Throughout it all they had not stopped holding hands, something that did a great deal for Reuma's anxiety about the girls' intentions and nothing at all for her worried protective instincts.

"Ok Tor, I get the picture," she said kindly. "Go and get some water from the galley will you? Crash and Zip might need a drink."

This had the advantage of letting him escape with dignity and the bonus of allowing Reuma to speak with Tilaté alone.

The Theelin looked nervous but defiant as Tor left with a worried backwards glance. Reuma made sure he was out of earshot before asking her quietly "Alright, now what's your _real_ reason?"

Tilaté protested. She loved Tor. She had come because she hadn't wanted to be parted from him. Surely she, Reuma, could understand this?

Reuma sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The girl seemed sincere, but she had to be sure.

"Fine, fine, you sound genuine." _Not that I'd know_, she added silently. "However, there are things you should know. About_ all_ of my boys, not just Tor."

Tilaté listened, and Reuma explained. She told her about clone trooper training. She described the terminations, sometimes for less than perfect genetic tissue, sometimes just for showing too much emotion, for making too many mistakes. She gave details on the accelerated growth, the virus that had almost killed Tor that he had had to take in order to live some semblance of a normal life. She informed the Theelin about the Mandalorians, about the clones' template, about the _Cuy'val Dar_, about what had happened on Murkhana and Coruscant and Kashyyyk. She left nothing out.

When she had finished, Tilaté was crying. Reuma watched impassively.

"You see now," she said almost gently, "why I have to look after them? Why I protect them? Why I gave them a culture and a family?"

Tilaté nodded tearfully.

"And you know what will happen if you break that boy's heart, or use him, or hurt him in any way?"

She nodded again, rather nervously, but Reuma still felt the need to elaborate.

"Because_ I'll _be here. I'll always be here. You know Jango Fett? I'm from the same people, I was taught the same way, I can fight just as well as he could and _I am still alive_. I know a lot of people, some of whom actually like me, so if you take it into your head to run then there will be_ nowhere_ you can hide,_ nowhere_ I will not find you. You understand?"

Tilaté bobbed her head, now looking terrified. Reuma actually smiled.

"No worries, kid. If you love him I'm not stopping him."

She watched as Tor emerged from the _Nebula_, hauling a bucket of water over to his two overheated brothers. She sighed.

"Just don't stop, ok? Keep loving him."

XXXXXXXX

Aine was just as hot, but he had no water and his swoop was starting to complain. This was starting to worry him.

It had been over three hours since he had run from the nameless town and his former comrades, and the boiling noonday sun was starting to take its toll on him, especially in the rough street clothes that Muzzle had given them. Occasionally he would see the two Wookies behind him, riding commandeered swoops, but they were easy enough to lose in the maze of fields.

He could only hope that they had given up and returned in fear of getting lost. He himself didn't really care where he was going, since a man with no destination can't lose his way. One place was as good as another. He just had to keep moving.

A juddering cough and a jerk that almost threw him from the saddle indicated that his swoop had finally given up the ghost. He knew privately that it was beyond fixing, and so contented himself with a few muttered obscenities and a glare at the rusty vehicle.

Luckily there was a path through the fields next to him, a small dirt track, but still a trail big enough to follow. It might lead to a farm or dwelling, somewhere he could beg for shelter or bunk down in one of the barns... maybe he could hire himself out as a farmhand or something?

The thought suddenly struck him as absurdly funny and he started to laugh for the first time in days. What the hell did he know about farming?

On the other hand he had no purpose, no food, nothing except and old pilots jacket with some loose change in it and a scavenged Stormtrooper belt with an antique blaster pistol. And a vibroknife Yala had given him.

For the first time in his life, Aine didn't have a plan.

Shrugging, he set off through the field.

XXXXXXXX

Dinner was being served outside when Yala and Zirl made it back, boiling hot and utterly miserable. Reuma didn't have to ask what had happened.

"You lost him?" She sounded more resigned than angry.

They nodded, shamefaced. Climber coughed.

"No, you aren't going. That's an order."

He closed his mouth. She stood up, putting aside her plate. "I'll go find him. Zip; go get the stuff that Muzzle gave you. You know what I mean."

Crash started to rise, but she halted him. "I move faster alone. Don't worry; I'll keep in com range."

Zip panted back to them, holding a burlap sack over one shoulder. From the way he dumped it one the ground it was extremely heavy, but Reuma picked it up without complaint.

She looked around at her squad, and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Remember to wash up after you're finished."

With that somewhat unusual farewell she slung the sack over Yala's swoop and set off to the south.

XXXXXXXX

Aine walked for what felt like hours–and probably was–and found nothing. His ill-fitting boots blistered his heels; the old plant stubble made his feet slip on every third step and scratched his ankles. The leaves offered no protection from the sun, but did whip in his eyes whenever he lowered his hands away from his face. Still, he didn't even consider going back.

The path had trickled and dithered for a while, before fading entirely and without ceremony in the middle of whatever piece of land he was in now. Now he had to cut across the crops, trampling the new shoots, and he was very well aware that this would endear him to their owner.

Normally he wouldn't care, but the owner may well be the one who employed him after this business. Dizzy with sunstroke, he elbowed his way into a new row and looked around. Maybe if he followed the row he could reach the edge of the field.

It took another half-hour, but he finally made it out of the clinging plant life. Scratched and sore, he was relieved when he saw a dark shape at the end of the field, clearly visible from his new position.

He was less pleased when he actually drew close to the farmhouse. It had been a big one once- a long time ago. Now it was a blacked ruin, the thatch burnt away, the timbers skeletal and clawing at the sky, or bowed low on the ground. Aine sighed with annoyance, but it was better than nothing. The ruins could still hold a water tank or two, and even if they didn't the rubble could shelter him from the sun for a bit.

As it turned out there was a water tank, cracked but still partly intact. He filled the empty water packs in the belt and settled down to rest in what would have once been the entrance of the homestead.

Yawning from the heat, he closed his eyes and dozed.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma had certain advantages to Yala and Zirl when it came to tracking on Concord Dawn. Firstly, she had visited the planet before, and knew most of the area immediately around the main town. Secondly, she had been brought up in a place much like it, and knew what signs to look for in the dusty ground and parched leaves.

Thirdly and most importantly, when she lost the physical trail she could cheat and reach out with the Force to find it in the air, in the plants, and the wind. She didn't enjoy it much, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Reuma didn't take pleasure in touching the Force in any case (she always maintained it gave her the willies), but now she was liking it even less. Aine might have come across to totally numb and devoid of emotion to his squad, but the Force told a totally different story. The predominant feeling was guilt, of course. But there were other things. Hopelessness, self-loathing, desolation, despair... all darkside emotions.

It has been mentioned before that Reuma had very little time for the so-called darkside, but like the shuttle above Murkhana this experience was making her reassess her ideas. Especially one emotion she didn't want to name.

It left a dirty taste in her mouth just thinking about it, but the trail was saturated with fear.

_What he's scared of? _She wondered about this as she followed the telepathic trail off the road, just where a rusted swoop bike lay in the dirt. _There's nothing here except farmers and crops. _

It wasn't normal fear, such as a person might feel when fighting an enemy or being grabbed from behind. This fear was nastier, colder; the kind of fear that assaults a person on a night time journey, the sort that makes them glance over their shoulder and hurry home to light and safety. It was the fear that strikes the young (and sometimes not so young) when they are lying awake in a dark room and pull up the covers to protect from bogeymen.

Reuma found herself listening for footsteps behind her, before telling herself not to be so stupid. She started to grow concerned. Was Aine _really_ that scared of what the Shadows would do to him?

If so she might have work to do before they all went to... wherever they were going.

She pushed aside the clinging plants and followed the scuff marks eastward; failing to notice that overhead, a ship was breaking the cloud line.

XXXXXXXX

He walked among the ruins, looking at the blacked beams and scorched stone foundations. Time had crumbled away most of the structure, but there was a place, a small place where something was glimmering, and he walked across to it in curiosity.

The light was weird, muted, and somehow greyish, like dark and light mixed up but staying the same, but he could still see that something was caught in the debris under the eve of one of the walls. He reached it and knelt down to pick it up.

It was smooth and round, but in the shadowy glow he couldn't make out the colour. He tugged at it to free it from the wreckage. It came away with a jerk.

The IT-0 droid shot up from his hands and hovered in front of his horrified eyes, then the walls started to melt and reform...

He started up but two pairs of hands caught hold of his arms and held him down, and the droid extended its pincers, reaching out.

"I told you," whispered a voice, "that no-one escapes the Empire."

He shouted and kicked and lashed out in terror but when he saw who held him he stopped in utter shock.

Ras stared down at him grimly.

"Why did I save you?" the other cried hollowly, "I should have left you! Coward!"

The other Stormtrooper sneered at his partner and clone as the droid hovered closer, inexorably, inescapably. "They messed up my genes with this one. Look at him! Crying like a baby."

Halmere appeared behind the droid, and the Stormtroopers faded away, just like before, because he could no longer move, the walls had trapped him, just like before, if he could just rise and run he would be free but the walls held him fast...

Halmere laughed as the droid took hold.

"No matter where you run, I'll be there."

The first wave of pain hit him, and he screamed.

Aine woke, and cursed himself. Of all the places and times to choose a nap! Already the sun was starting to set, tingeing the sky blood-red. Unless he wanted to become hopelessly lost in the crop fields, he would have to stay in the ruins.

He looked back at them and shivered. By the dimming light and the memory of the dream they looked far more sinister than they had before.

Whatever Aine thought he was, in truth he was no coward. Reuma had told them all a long time ago that fear of a thing was often far worse than the thing itself, and that the best way to deal with things that scared you was to run towards them, not away. Preferably with a loaded blaster.

Aine only had a pistol, but he wasn't about to spend the night in a ruin that scared him shitless for no reason. The only thing he could do was look his fear in the face... and run.

He picked up his blaster and climbed into the ruins.

XXXXXXXX

The person whose training he was drawing on at exactly that time was hot, dusty, scratched, and scared sick for her trainee. The sky was rapidly darkening, the trail was getting unclear, and the Force memory of the local life was fading. Furthermore, she was even less equipped to deal with a night in the open than her quarry.

She turned into the new row and followed the field up to the edge. Her instincts told her to hurry.

She didn't argue with them.

XXXXXXXX

Aine staggered over the fallen planks and shafts, hurting himself quite badly when one tore free suddenly of its dirt grave and smacked him in the face. Rubbing his eye, he looked around.

And froze.

Just where it should be – shouldn't be – something glittered.

He hesitated, but chided himself immediately after. It had just been a dream, brought about by a hot sun and little food. There was nothing to be afraid of here.

Rarely would a Republic Commando be so completely and utterly wrong.

He scrambled over and dug into the dirt. The glittering thing, to his immense relief, was not smooth and round but long and thin. He jerked it free and snorted.

A rusty rifle. Of all things!

He stood up, shaking his head in grim amusement, turned and almost walked into Halmere.


	13. Sithspawn

**12: Sithspawn**

_Yes, I heard what Skitira said about working together, but I'm telling you to disregard it. He forgot that sometimes, there will be things you can only face alone. _

_-Reuma Seritole (sgt, GAR), teaching her group of 100 commandos. _

"O_sik. Fierfek_."

Reumas' foot slipped on an unseen clod of earth, sending her pitching forward. She banged her knee.

"Sithspawn!"

She had been walking for what felt like hours, the farmhouse was drawing no closer, the sky was getting darker, and all she had so far achieved was a fine collection of bruises. Oh, and a pair of very dirty knees.

"_Ain'ika_, sometimes I really wonder why I bother," she muttered.

XXXXXXXX

For almost thirty seconds – a long time for a commando – Aine just stood and stared in complete and utter horror at the apparition before him. Then time started again.

Aine drew his vibroknife just as Halmere did his lightsaber; he ducked just as the blade swung towards his neck, swiped out with the dagger, driving the Dark Jedi back a pace, feinted to the left then aimed for a low blow to the right.

Halmere, with an almost bored expression, casually flipped his weapon in a semi-circle, cutting the vibroknife in two, before he threw out his hand.

No thought, no pause started between the action and Aine dropping to the ground, hitting the dust just as something big and heavy whistled over his head. Without pause he scrambled up and hurled himself at Halmere, intent on nothing but choking the life out of his brothers' killer.

There was an eternity of confusion, as he rolled over in the dirt, bending back Halmere's hand, red plasma blade hovering so close to his face he could smell the ozone, the blade crisping his hair. With a snarl he pushed himself back, twisting the wrist he was holding. A clatter sounded as he kicked Halmere in the chest, inwardly thankful as they both scrambled to their feet that sarge had put so much emphasis on hand-to-hand combat.

He got to his feet, swaying slightly, and saw the lightsaber on the ground. On the other side of it was Halmere.

The Dark Jedi's eyes glittered. "Pick it up."

_And expose my back? You wish. _

"Go on. Pick it up." Halmere stepped back, leaving himself open. "Pick it up, RC-3889. I will not stop you."

And despite himself, his common sense saying that to do so would be suicide, he did because in the end, what did he have to lose apart from his life?

Right now, his life wasn't really worth much.

The lightsaber was still warm from being held, cooling as the evening air washed over it, its grip heavy, and bound with synthleather, its metal gleaming bloodily in the sunset like. Aine balanced it in his hand and remembered what Climber, the only one of them to ever handle a Jedi's weapon, had told them; that it had felt more a tool than a weapon.

_Alright_. He looked up and curled his hand around the metal cylinder, a small, frozen void opening in his chest as he looked back up. _Alright, so maybe it can be a tool for this. _

Halmere saw his own death in Aine's face, but showed no fear. "If you can turn it on, then you can kill me."

Aine shifted his grip on the handle, never taking his eyes off his enemy as his fingers quested for a switch, a button, some sort of pressure pad...

"Take all the time you want."

There was nothing, nothing he could feel. He ran his fingers down it and felt nothing, nothing but cold metal and warm synthleather, jagged ridges and rough melded edges.

"Why are you just standing there?" Halmere's voice was soft. "You _can_ turn it on, RC-3889. It is not impossible. Find the way."

He forgot his training and looked down he saw nothing but an inoffensive metal tube, not a weapon at all. Not even a tool.

"Come on, commando. Think of all I have done. I killed your brother. I had you tortured. Don't you want revenge for that?"

_Ignore him and focus_, said his training, but he found himself holding down all his anger, anger at the simple _unfairness_ of this, that Ras' murderer was standing_ right there_ and the weapon he held was one he couldn't even _use_...

"Remember your brother? Remember how he died? That's the weapon that killed him, RC-3889. That's the weapon that burnt through his skin and charred a hole in his chest, the one that ripped out his life and left him as nothing more than _meat_..."

Aine gripped the lightsaber so hard his knuckles turned white, and he felt the cold void fill with the heat of dieing stars, so that he imagined he could hear the crackle of their death in his ears. But it still wouldn't turn on.

"That's the weapon I had when I captured you," Halmere continued, smiling as he saw his opponent struggling to control his temper. "That's the weapon that was on my belt when I came in to see you, with the droid. Yes, you remember the droid, don't you...?"

The rage boiled in his skull, dimming his vision to a red haze as Aine started to walk towards Halmere, intent and determined that whether or not this stupid thing turned on, he was going to shut that murdering, filthy sadistic bastard's mouth for good...

Halmere didn't move, but whispered as he drew closer, "_I_ remember after the Bavo Six injections, you were scared of the shadows in the corner, how you thought they were more droids coming to get you; how ironic it was that a someone who called himself a _Shadow_ was afraid of the dark, how just one session left screaming for your 'sarge', how you were crying with pain at the end of it. Strange that any clone of Jango Fett could be so pathe–"

He never reached the end of the sentence, because Aine, through a flood of fevered rage and black hatred, felt a starburst of clarity bloom in his head, as if he was saying _oh, that's it, I get it now_, so he only had to think for the connection he needed to snap shut, and a scarlet flame spear from the end of the handgrip to arch towards his enemy's head, only to stop with a quiver as the Dark Jedi threw up a commanding hand and Aine's arm froze.

Halmere smiled, his face bathed with crimson light. "Well done."

XXXXXXXX

A mile away, a helmeted head shot up and a pair of heavily booted feet started to run, scattering grit granules and whipping aside leaves.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

XXXXXXXX

Aine didn't protest, wasn't even sure he could have, as the lightsaber was gently taken from his unfeeling hand and the scarlet fire burnt itself out. He could only stand in numb silence as Halmere stepped back out of reach.

He blinked and looked at Halmere.

"What... what did I...?"

"You turned it on," Halmere said simply. "My lightsaber can only be switched on internally. You have to use the Force to reach inside without cracking open the handgrip case."

"But... but I... I'm not..." Aine swallowed and tried again, fighting down the feeling that the ground was swaying under his feet. This couldn't be happening; it _couldn't_..."We aren't..."

"_They_ aren't. You are."

"That's impossible," he whispered.

"Zkaqul," Halmere said dryly, his hair dyed the colour of blood by the sunset behind him, "thought differently."

"But he can't have... it isn't _possible_..."

"I'm sorry. The Sith have discovered ways, certain... hm, _Alchemies_, and he knew enough that he could create a possibility and test it on the first unfortunate to fall into his hands."

"The virus... but he captured all of us," Aine murmured numbly, trying to find a way out... _any_ way. "He captured us all, the others..."

"Maybe he used a different sample. I don't know, RC-3889, I wasn't there. But in Stronghold, you were altered far more than you might have guessed."

He shook his head, desperate. "You're _lying_."

"If I am, then how did I find you on Commenor? You're a _clone_, RC-3889. How could I tell you apart, even in armour? How did I affect you when clones are _bred_ to be resistant to the Force?"

It was true. He knew it, and now he _knew_ how he knew. It was all true, he had wondered himself when he shivered in the cells and waited for interrogation, how the darksider had known. He must have been practically _shouting_ their location...

"I'm so sorry," Halmere said again, with pity, as if he had told his enemy of a tragic bereavement. And in a way, he had.

The death wasn't of a person, although Ras had died, nor was it of hope, because he had lost that with his brother. It was of a dream, the dream that despite everything, everything that had happened, it might all be just a... a hallucination, an illusion, that this was all just a delusion caused by a rich dinner or sickness, that he would wake up and Ras would be there and Climber wouldn't hate him, that he was still himself, a Mandalorian, that the nightmare was going to _end_...

But Halmere had destroyed that as simply and effectively as he had destroyed Ras.

Because now the nightmare was never going to end.

Even if he woke up, he would still be what he was.

Sithspawn.

He was Sithspawn.

"Do you want to sit down?" Halmere sounded guardedly concerned. "You look unwell."

_No_. The words succeeded in breaking through the fog. No, he was... he had been... he had been trained as a Mandalorian, and Mandalorians didn't sit down when their enemy was still present. They stood on their feet and looked fate in the eye.

"What..." he shook his head, trying to focus. "What's going to happen?"

"Well, I am of course under orders," Halmere's said matter-of-factly. "You know how it is. I was ordered to find you and... Open your eyes to the truth, as it were. The Sith do that quite often."

Aine groped for his blaster, not to kill the Jedi – there was no hope of that he knew – but to force him into killing him. "I won't let you take me alive."

"Eventually you will have no choice. Especially as you can't win against me, Sith Alchemy or not."

"I can still fight you."

"What for? Why should you?" The Dark Jedi watched him carefully. "You are weak and alone. You cowered in front of me, and forced a friend to sacrifice himself. No one _wants _you to live. Why should you?"

Aine flinched away from the words, and the despair that the long walk and fight had banished began to return, but fear followed at his heels. He couldn't be taken back... he had had enough of the cells to last a lifetime. _Two_ lifetimes. There was no _way_...

"You won't be hurt," Halmere said almost gently. "No if you come willingly, and you're only other option is to fight and be captured anyway. All you have to do is put down your blaster and come with me. Nothing will happen to you, I promise."

"I... I can't..."

"Please reconsider. You must have guessed I am able to track you by now."

"Track me?" His mouth felt dry.

Halmere cast him a faintly amused look. "Yes _tracked_. Ever since Kashyyyk, I might add. How do you think I found you? A clone commando modified by Sith Alchemy, how could I _not_?"

"No..." He felt dizzy but the words held an awful truth... Zkaqul, he had found them, even though they were hidden on Kashyyyk, hidden even from the Empire... and at the starport, the woman, Pasiq... "No, it's not true. It can't be."

The darksider did not pity him, but neither was he unkind. "Perhaps you should come of your own accord. It would save us both a journey, an unavoidable journey. "

Aine gripped the side of the wall, hard enough to hurt. He rasped out, "I don't care. I won't. Never. Not after Ras."

"It is inevitable."

"So is death. And I still stand." He raised his head and looked the Dark Jedi in the eye, as he had on Commenor. "Until you kill me, I will always stand. Even alone."

Halmere regarded him thoughtfully but with a new respect, as he pulled the lightsaber back out and ignited it. "Then I am sorry I have to do this."

Aine snapped up the blaster, but a new feeling bloomed on the side of his face, as if a whirlwind was brewing in the north and had just gusted hot air against his skin, making him turn towards the storm. Halmere spun the same way and swore.

_What in blazes?_

The Dark Jedi seemed to catch the thought as it flew free. He turned and stared at the clone for a long while, but whatever was approaching from the north had unnerved him, and eventually he shook his head. "No, too dangerous. You will keep."

He gave the commando one last, contemplative look, and left with barely a flicker of his cape.

Aine blinked, and the spell fled. The past came rushing back.

He would keep. He would always keep, because he practically had a tracking chip hidden in him, broadcasting his location, cutting him off from his family for good because travelling with them, even if they were willing to forgive him, would only lead the Empire to them all.

Wherever he went, they would find him.

He sank to the floor. _What now?_

XXXXXXXX

Akan Taruni's father had been a Kiffar Mandalorian and his mother a Force-Sensitive. This had logically boosted the naturally occurring Kiffar ability of psychometry, the skill in picking up feelings and information from inanimate objects, and this had been passed to his daughter before his demise at Galidraan along with his father and cousin. In some cases, where the Force gathered more strongly, physical touching was hardly even necessary.

When Reuma set foot on the homestead it was all she could do not to either run away or be violently sick.

The place was permeated, no _saturated_ in the darkside, with loss and fear and unbearable pain. Not Aine's either. Wind and weather had faded the mundane traces, but the Force still screamed out at the crime.

There had been murder here, and more than once. Here the voices of the past spoke forever.

"_This is the last time I ask nicely..."_

"Oh, I _really_ need to get a grip," she muttered, pale.

She looked around, and saw a shape. Or, more precisely, a back. She walked toward it softly.

Aine was crouched down, like a man in unbearable pain, staring at the ground and clutching a rusted old rifle like a child would a stuffed toy. He didn't look up as she approached, or react when she sat down beside him and removed her helmet.

"Aine?" she said gently, concealing her worry. "Are you...um... well, guess not. Climber told me. And Zip. I understand what happened now."

He didn't respond, but stared at the blasted, blackened wall. "I understand what happened," she repeated. "You know, it was probably the darkie affecting you. He wanted you to be split from the others, get your defences down, isolate you."

Silence. She looked at the wall as well. It didn't seem that interesting.

"It isn't your fault then, you see? It was his. He wanted you to run away."

His voice was almost inaudible. "And I did."

"I might have as well, if I were you. After what Climber said." She sighed and let the sack over her shoulder drop to the ground with a clank. "I've got some things for you..."

She reached into the sack and brought out something that shone in the dying day-rays, swallowing the bloody light into its own blackness. She held it in her hands, like a historian with a precious find.

"This was my grandfathers," she said finally. "I went to Galidraan after... after I found out, and I searched for the... well, remains. I got my dads stuff back –" she tapped her chestplate, ruddy in the sunset "– and my cousins'. I got granddads' stuff back as well. With a little persuasion."

She put the helmet in his hands carefully. "I gave it to Muzzle because I didn't want to keep it. It was too painful, knowing they were all there and... Well, when I got it back, I figured there was a better person to have it than him. He ain't Taruni, but I could think of a few that are, and one I'd be honoured to give it to – Sithspawn, what's wrong?"

Aine had curled in one himself and covered his head with his hands. He shed no tears, or made a sound, but closed his eyes and looked as though he fervently wished himself dead. Reuma blinked in bewilderment.

At a loss, she tried patting his shoulder. "Look, we all make mistakes, it doesn't matter..."

"Mine did." His voice was raw with pain. "Mine killed Ras."

"Yeah but... look, you _know_ it was the Imp doing that, you _must_ do. Its common sense, lad!"

"I still let it happen." He didn't uncurl, and Reuma wasn't sure he could. "I... in the cells... it was like they were closing in, I couldn't _breathe_..."

"Well, you were being tortured, that's to be expected–"

"_No_." This time he looked at her directly, his eyes haunted. "No, when we were escaping. I looked back and saw Halmere and... It was like I was _in_ the cells, like I was back there, I just froze up, I was _scared_... I still _dream_ about it..."

She laid her hand on his shoulder. "A wise man once told me that dreams pass in time. They carry on a little while, and then stop."

He didn't say anything, and she could tell there was more. Fear wouldn't make him despair – shame him, maybe, but not break him down like this. He was stronger than he thought himself.

She did the only thing she could think of. Reuma stretched her arms around his shoulders and held him close. The effect was slightly ludicrous, rather like a monkey-lizard comforting a Rancor.

"It's ok," she said softly. "Sometimes shit just happens. You bum up your life so much it looks like you can't ever escape, but you still do. Nothing lasts forever, Aine."

She felt him give off a half-laugh, half-sob. "_This _will sarge. As long as I live. I've been so_ blind_... I put you all in danger, but I won't anymore. I promise."

"Say what?" she asked, baffled.

"The Dark Jedi, he was here–"

"_What?_"

"He's gone, don't worry... he told me about Zkaqul, what he did to us... he was an Acolyte, sarge he knew Sith Alchemy..."

"Huh?"

Aine was hardly listening, apparently. "He overdosed me, I don't know why but it gave me sensitivity... sarge, they can track me through it, that's how Halmere found me..."

"Come again?"

"... he didn't have to take me back now, sarge, he'll know where to find me." His tone was filled with self-contempt. "Like a canoid on a leash. He'll _know_."

Reuma struck out towards sanity. "Ok, I know for sure that's a load of bollocks. And you should too."

"Why?" he didn't sound very hopeful.

"Ah, Aine? What am I?"

He blinked. "You're our sergeant."

"And...?" she prompted.

"And a Mandalorian and the _Nebula_'_s_ captain and –" light dawned "– and you can _use the Force_."

"Right, so don't you think I might _know_ if you were calling Imps to you?" She started to laugh, a surprising sound in that desolate place. "You young _di'kut_, Aine."

"But... he said..."

"Laddie, who do you think is more honest? Me or him?"

"But they_ always found us_... _all _of them!"

"Oh come on, give them _some_ credit. We weren't exactly quiet on Kashyyyk, and Halmere probably tracked you from Commenor. They aren't totally stupid, laddie."

"But I... I could _do_ things... and Halmere _found_ me."

"_Adi'ka_ , there's stuff there, but it isn't calling darksiders to us. It takes enormous power to call someone across the galaxy, and you don't have that."

"But I've been _changed_ ."

"People change," she unconsciously echoed one her most hated Jedi. "Aine...no, sit down, let me tell you... you know what Bando Gora was?"

He nodded. News travelled fast among a clone community, and the story of their templates testing was common gossip.

"Ok, that helps. Well it changed people as well you know. Not for the better. Until Jango destroyed it..." she trailed off.

"Yes?" he prompted finally.

"Well, do you think w... _they_ went round afterwards sulking and moaning and saying they were better off alone? Or do you think they went out and tried to make up for what had gone wrong?"

"That's _different_; it isn't as bad as –"

"I'm sorry? Being brainwashed by deathsticks is_ worse_ than being injected with a life-prolonging drug?"

He looked as if he were about to argue, but seemed to think better of it. Reuma thought this very wise. She stood up abruptly and let go of the helmet.

There was a _clunk_, and a muffled yelp.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," she told him. "Pull yourself together and come back with me. That's an order."

Aine took off the helmet and rubbed his head ruefully. "You were always direct, sarge."

"Part of my charm, laddie. You're family. That's all there is to it." She smiled and offered her hand.

After a moments hesitation he took it.

XXXXXXXX

It was dark now. The sun had lost its battle with the night, one sliver of its burning eye clinging to the horizon, like the loosening grip of a dieing man. The strange stars above it glared at the figure watching the sky, as if blaming him for what was happening to their bigger brother.

Climber sighed. They weren't the only one blaming him at the moment.

He was sitting on a dusty rock on the planet of his dead template because he had called his brother a coward to his face and driven him away, possibly into the very arms of an organisation that was going to interrogate and torture him. His other brothers weren't speaking to him, the non-human members of the Shadows were carefully avoiding him and their leader had been missing for over seven hours.

And Ras was dead.

It was hard to see how things could get any weirder, or indeed worse.

He had known Ras would die eventually, even if he hadn't expected it to be before he had, because Ras had been... well, the _sensible_ one. The dutiful, quiet, faintly shy medic and linguist, the one who didn't swear excessively (unless he dropped his kitbag on his foot), didn't drink or play pranks on people or get into trouble at all. The only time he had ever shown disobedience had been when they were trying to save the wounded. He just _wouldn't_ leave them behind. He even argued with _Jedi,_ and for Ras that took some nerve.

And now he would never argue with a medic droid or a Healer again. He would never purloin bacta from the bases they raided, never listen to one of the Wooks and tell them "she says... he says..." never answer "Shadow Three reporting in" over the squad com system, never do his impression of their Kaminoan instructor like he had back in training, in a rare display of levity.

It had hurt when Trace and Ordin had died. It _still_ hurt, every day he missed his old squad more than mere words could say. They had been a team, _the_ team. They had never lost a member until Murkhana, and then he and Ras had been all that was left of the Ions...

And now he was the last. The last ever. There would be no more Ion team, no more in-jokes or_ do you remember when,_ or_ whoa, I just thought about_... no more re-telling of the day Trace got caught in a sewer pipe on Deko Neimoidia and had been pulled out looking like a swamp trooper. No-one sang the same songs here. Somehow that hurt worse of all.

Aine had been easy to lash out at, because he was there and present and _real,_ not a distant, hazy Dark Jedi on a far-away planet that Climber had never heard of. But in his heart of hearts Climber had not been shouting at Aine, but at _himself_. He had been scolding _himself_ for letting the death of a brother – which was not a new occurrence and should not have been unexpected – for letting it hurt so badly. Each word he had thrown had bounced off Aine and stuck on him like the shit in the pipe had stuck on Trace.

His lashing out had caused one of his last remaining brothers to disappear, and now it was more his fault than ever.

_I don't know if there's anyone listening or anyone to listen, but if there is and you care about men like us them bring him back safe, let me tell him I'm sorry. Just that. Please._

"They're coming back."

He looked around. Crash was behind him, along with Rakiss, who stuck to him like glue now. The adoption had been recognised by the whole group – bar Aine – and the Wookies had even offered to serve as Hold-Parents, or whatever their equivalent was. Crash had accepted with an uncharacteristic laugh.

The other commando didn't look condemning or angry, but just a little relieved.

_Gods, is Crash is going soft? Is that what fatherhood does for you? _

He looked past his brothers' shoulder at the rising dust on the horizon. Two figures dismounted, both in full Mandalorian regalia, one red, and one black. Climber stood up and started over.

"What will you do?" asked Crash, grim-faced as ever.

"Apologise," he said without turning or slowing, "what else can I do?"

XXXXXXXX

Crash watched as his brother walked over, and wondered what was about to happen. Climber wouldn't grovel or beg, it wasn't his way. Not make excuses either, because they didn't make excuses.

He felt Raks' scaly hand in his, and gave it a squeeze. With the exception of Aine, the whole squad knew about his son now. Telling Zip anything was a sure way of spreading the news to the four corners of whatever planet you happened to be on, which was why he hadn't said a word about the stopover at Zolan. Reuma had told him she wanted it to be a surprise.

He saw as the two men halted in front of each other, both looking wary. The rest of the Shadows were frozen in various positions, carefully seeing if there was going to be any unpleasantness that might need breaking up.

Climber held out his hand, ungloved. Aine stared at it for a moment.

Crash wasn't aware of it, but he was holding his breath.

Of all the trainees that Reuma Seritole had trained, Crash came closest to being the match for Jango Fett. He was a ruthless killer, cold-blooded, efficient, could work as well, if not better, on his own as in a group and was not known for being overly mystical. But right then, like Ras had on Commenor, Crash saw the future.

If Aine refused that hand, if he spat and walked away or hit Climber or did anything that Crash himself might have done... if, in other words, he didn't try to forgive the insults thrown at him by his brother, then the Shadows were doomed. Ras' sacrifice would have been for nothing; because while the squad couldn't survive the loss of their second-in-command, neither could they afford to lose Climber. Not like this.

No, not just that. This was _family_.

_The only family I have_, he thought without emotion or irony, because for him and all the other clones this was a simple fact. _My family. My brothers, my sister-in-law-to-be, my big sister, my Trandoshan son and two Wookies. The weirdest, most dysfunctional kin in the galaxy. _

He watched as Aine reached out and clasped the hand of his brother, finally started to breathe.

_And I wouldn't have it any other way._

The clan Taruni closed in on itself, to welcome back what they had thought lost forever.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

On Concord Dawn, the home of Jango Fett, _Dha Werda Verda_ was sung and danced to the light of a single moon. It was sung by everyone, from Reuma to Ras. Even TC stood and watched, recording this new tradition as it was danced without armour, those with any leaving theirs at the side to gleam faintly under the stars.

The words drifted up into the cold, crisp air.

"_Taung-sa-rang-brok-ka-Ta-run-i-ka'rta!__"_

They no longer fought for the memory of a corrupt government on Coruscant, or for a planet of warriors subjected by a tyrannical regime. They fought for each other. For their clan.

"_Dha-Wer-da-Ver-d-a'den-tratu!_"

They always had. Even when training had drilled into their heads that all they did, they did for the Republic, even when they had been ordered and shouted into impossible situations... when the shots started flying, they fought for their family.

"_Mand-a'-yaim-a-kan-dosii-adu!"_

Brothers had fallen. Well, that was life. People died; there was no help for that. You couldn't raise the dead, not even with a song and the Force.

"_Duum-mo-tir-ca-'tra-nau-tracinya!"_

But sometimes you could avenge them.

"_Gra-'tua-cuun-hett-su-dralshya!"_

Mandalorians knew all about vengeance.

XXXXXXXX

From the shadows of tall plants, someone watched a dance of vengeance, and listened to a song that promised him death. He watched as the dance progressed, climaxed, finished.

He observed as those present tidied up, picked up their armour, their weapons, their child. He saw the hand-clasps, the stolen kiss between two lovers, the shepherding of them all by the small figure in a too-big green coat, red armour cradled under her arms, and Verpine carbine slung over her back. He watched one clone, his arms full of blue-trimmed black armour, who nodded _goodnight_ to his sergeant and gave the surrounding crops a long look, before turning back to his kin.

He heard the gentle squabble of father and son as they debated the younglings' bedtime, the quiet rumblings of the two Wookies as they took up guard posts on the ramp, the prim inquiries into 'Mandalorian culture' by the silver-plated droid, the whispered _I love you_ from a Theelin woman to a clone that held her hand and didn't let go once.

He watched and listened, as the Taruni clan of the Mandalorians went on their ship to sleep and dream of the dawn.

He had not lied to the clone, although he would have if he needed to. He had been ordered to reveal himself and persuade the commando to either give up and turn himself in or – failing that – at least stay away from the Shadows and be kept isolated until he was ready to be collected.

Neither had happened, and so it was time for plan B.

He waited for them to relax, and then he made back into the foliage to report to his master via a long-distance holocom. A blue figure draped in a zeyd-cloth cloak hovered above the activator.

"Master," he said quietly, "I have them."


End file.
